


Better Than Okay

by Anogete



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, F/M, Foot Fetish, Masturbation, Romance, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-02 00:38:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 93,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10933347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anogete/pseuds/Anogete
Summary: Bucky is yanked out of cryostasis in the midst of an international incident and needs a place to lay low. Darcy happens to have a rental in the middle of nowhere with an extra bedroom. Grudgingly, he agrees to stay with her, but doesn't realize how much that will change his life. Or that he'll end up falling in love.  Character-driven fic in which Bucky learns how to heal and live again.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone! I'm back!
> 
> In case you aren't aware, my writing method is to complete a story before I post any of it. This story is complete, but not entirely edited/revised. It will be 20 chapters, about 225 pages or 92,000 words. I like to post once a day, but there may be a day or two that I skip or a day or two I post two chapters. I'll make a note if I do post double chapters so you don't miss one.
> 
> While this first chapter contains some action, the remainder of the fic is character-driven and relationship-driven without much actual danger or high drama. I wanted to tell Bucky's story of how he learned to enjoy life, find happy moments, stop blaming himself, and fall in love. So, that's what you're going to find here. I will be treating him a bit roughly at first, but I promise you he will be getting much love from Darcy in later chapters. And for you smut-lovers, there will be chapters of it about mid-way in. Something to look forward to, right?
> 
> The first few chapters of this fic discuss suicidal thoughts and actions. If this is upsetting to you, then you should definitely skip chapters one and four. Those two portions of the fic deal with contemplation of suicide the most heavily. If you do skip those chapters, feel free to contact me via e-mail (anogete527@yahoo.com) or on Tumblr (anogete) and I will provide you a synopsis of the plot within them.
> 
> The song lyrics that begin each chapter are from my personal soundtrack to this story. They are songs I listened to on repeat while writing it and, hopefully, have helped provide a tone to the story. I will provide a comprehensive list of the songs in an author's note later on, but if you want it now, just let me know.
> 
> Like all authors, I live for feedback. Comments are adored, and I will love you forever. If you have constructive criticism, it can be sent directly to me at my e-mail address (anogete527@yahoo.com). Either way, I'd love to hear what you think and what you like, especially. That helps me with my future projects.
> 
> So, without further ado, onto the story...

 

The above graphic was made the the lovely and talented [theeone007](https://theeone007.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. 

 

> “Come on, boy, don’t be such a baby.” - Number Nine (The Twilight Singers)

**[6:28am, April 25th, Wakanda]**

The first thing Bucky felt was a jolt as his left shoulder hit the floor, the metal grating across the tile beneath him. Everything was black. He couldn’t feel his legs, couldn’t move. Terror and anxiety well up inside him. His mouth was open, but nothing was coming out. No scream, not even a breath. Because he couldn’t breathe. His lungs were burning and the numbness in his body was quickly turning into a dull ache that was growing more intense as the seconds passed.

It felt like a lifetime, but it was probably only a handful of seconds between the moment he hit the ground and the moment he realized his eyes were closed. With effort, he opened them and saw a puddle of blood not more than two feet away. A boot print was in the edge of it, smearing the viscous, red pool. His skin was on fire, and he still couldn’t feel his legs. Still couldn’t breathe. Consciously thinking about his lungs, he tried to remember how to pull in a breath. He couldn’t think of the sensation; the muscle memory was gone. His mouth opened like a fish, trying to find oxygen.

Finally, he pulled in his first shuddering breath of air. The floor beneath him rumbled and shook. His skin wasn’t on fire; he was freezing. His right hand was lying limp in front of his face and it was a sickly, pale blue. What was happening? Where was he? Why was he on fire? No, not fire. Cold. His entire body was convulsing in shivers now. Bucky curled in on himself, dragging the edge of his metal shoulder across the floor. His left arm was missing. What?

“Can you move?” The voice was behind him, but Bucky didn’t know if he had the strength to roll over. “Barnes, can you move?”

Bucky opened his mouth and wheezed out an airy moan that didn’t make much noise at all. His tongue felt thick and heavy and useless.

“Barnes!” The man behind him had raised his voice further. Another crash and glass skittered across the floor in front of him. Some of the pieces landed in the pool of blood. What had he done? Who had he killed? What did HYDRA make him do now?

“Fuck,” Bucky managed to say, pulling in another breath and finding it easier to fill his lungs.

“Barnes, we’ve got to move.”

The man again. Bucky shifted onto his back. To his left was a cylinder with a door. It was leaning to the right and looked to be on the precipice of tumbling over. It almost did when there was another crash and concrete from the wall behind the cylinder scattered across the room, filling the space with chalky dust.

Gunfire. It had been on-going, but he only now registered it. Gunfire and the rumble of explosives. The woosh of someone’s leg flying through the air and connecting with a body. Combat. What had he done?

Suddenly the pieces fell into place. He was cold from the cryo chamber. Tony Stark had torn off his arm. He was in Wakanda. Bucky struggled until he was sitting up. The voice was…

“Barnes! Now!” T’Challa yelled, slamming his fist into a man who had been pointing an assault rifle at the back of Bucky’s head.

“What’s happening?” Bucky asked, pushing himself up to his knees. His body was vibrating, trying to regain warmth, and his head was still cloudy, his speech slurred.

T’Challa reached out and grabbed Bucky’s right arm, hauling him into a standing position. Bucky would have collapsed again if it weren’t for the other man holding him steady. “A lot is happening. We’re under attack, and we need to get you out,” T’Challa said.

The blast blew chunks of the wall closest to them across the room. On instinct, Bucky curled in on himself, his hand going to his head. His hand. Not hands. He could still feel the prosthetic even though it wasn’t there. Strange.

“What did I do?” Bucky asked, looking at the pool of blood and the body lying next to it.

“Nothing. You’ve been in cryo.”

“How long?”

T’Challa pulled Bucky away from the blood and through a doorway. There were screams in the corridor ahead. Screams and the sharp sound of gunfire. “Two years. Russia is…”

Three men rounded the corner, heading toward them. Bucky tensed, ready for a fight. T’Challa pointed at the men and barked out orders. They were his men. Oh. Bucky’s mind wasn’t moving fast enough to keep up. And he’d just realized he was naked. And so cold. “Russia?” he asked.

T’Challa grabbed a sheet off a piece of equipment and threw it at Bucky. “International crisis,” he said. “We’re at war with Russia.”

Oh. So it wasn’t about him after all. What the hell had happened in two years to bring Wakanda and Russia to war? He wanted to ask, but T’Challa shoved him at a tall man in tactical gear.

“Take him to the roof. They should be here in five minutes.I need to go help our people,” he told him the man.

Bucky stumbled forward and hit his shoulder against the wall. The door to the stairwell was only a few feet away. He trusted T’Challa, but not anyone else. His mind was already trying to think of contingency plans. How could he get away? Where could he go? A bullet hit the concrete wall by his head, not six inches from his ear.

The tall, bald man reached out and pulled him up the two steps to the stairwell door. “Go,” he told Bucky. “Top floor. They’ll meet you on the landing pad.”

“Who?”

“Go!” the man yelled, lifting a strange-looking gun up and aiming it down the hallway. The gun sizzled like it was a stun gun or powered by electricity. Bucky didn’t stick around to wait for what was about to happen. He grabbed the handrail of the stairs and struggled to get his legs to work properly. His muscle memory was coming back, but it was slow-going in this fast-paced environment. Each step was a struggle, each flight of stairs took an eternity. T’Challa had said five minutes. Who would be there in five minutes?

Bucky lost count of how many floors he climbed before he fought to ascend the final flight of metal steps. They were steel, not concrete like the others, obviously meant just for service personnel. What would be waiting on the roof? He clutched the sheet around his shoulders and pressed his back to the wall as he edged toward the door marked “maintenance.”

Cracking the door allowed him to hear the buzzing of an aircraft. _They_ would be at the landing pad? _Who_ would be at the landing pad? He couldn’t go out there without a weapon, especially not with a missing arm. The sound of rapid footfalls carried over the roof of the building outside. Someone was running toward the door. Bucky let it slip shut, hoping it would lock.

It didn’t lock, and a moment later it slammed open, bounding off the wall behind it. Bucky tensed, ready to launch himself at the possible attacker. He almost collapsed to the floor when he saw it was Steve.

“Bucky,” Steve said, relief in his voice. “Thank god! Come on. Let’s go.”

He probably wouldn’t have gone with anyone else, but Steve was okay. Steve was the _only_ one who was okay.

///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\

He was able to see the destruction of the building they’d just left as the quinjet was taking off. The front of it had gaping holes where missiles or bombs had busted up the impressive structure. A fire was burning on one of the lower floors and the courtyard in front was devastated. A few other buildings around it had taken some damage, but nothing so severe was the medical center where he’d spent the past two years, at least according to T’Challa.

The ground war was still going strong with groups of armed men clashing together near the courtyard the bombs had laid waste to. Bucky curled in on himself and pulled the sheet tighter. He was still cold–freezing, actually–and now he was nauseous. The woman at the controls next to Steve was familiar. He’d fought her before. Natasha, he remembered Steve telling him. The guy sitting across from him had a bowstring looped over his shoulder and a quiver of arrows hanging off his back. Clint. Bucky remembered him from the fight at airport.

Clint was standing and bent over to peer out another window a couple yards away. “Looks like they’ve got it under control,” he told Steve.

Steve stood and made his way back to Bucky. “You okay?” he asked.

Bucky didn’t know how to answer that question. Minutes before he’d been blessedly unconscious and now he was surrounded by war and on the run again. His stomach turned. “What happened?” he asked Steve.

“Long story.” Steve opened a compartment over the bench seat toward the back of the jet and pulled out some clothes. “There was an incident two weeks ago in Wakanda. A Russian diplomat was killed–shot in the head–when he left his plane. The Russians released audio of T’Challa and two of his aides discussing the assassination.”

“That…” Bucky started to say.

“Yeah, that doesn’t sound right. We have people working on it. The audio might have been doctored. Russia demanded T’Challa surrender himself to stand trial there. He refused. So Russia shot down a civilian aircraft flying from Wakanda to Finland. They said it was in their airspace and hostile. They rolled out two missiles they said were found on the plane, saying the weapons are Wakandan. That was at a press conference two days ago.”

“They looked pretty suspect,” Clint added with a roll of his eyes.

Steve nodded. “Yeah, they’re old technology. Not what is being used nowadays. So, Wakanda appealed to the United Nations, who basically said they couldn’t get involved. Yesterday Russian claimed Wakanda was holding a political prisoner. There was some video, but we can’t verify. When Wakanda denied it, Russia sent over fighter planes and a small group of their army to remove T’Challa from power.”

“What do I have to do with this?”

Steve handed over the clothes and sighed. “We’ve got intel that HYDRA may have infiltrated the Russian government.”

Bucky was almost sure he was going to throw up. His body was still shaking from the cryo and the stress. “What?”

Holding up a hand, Steve said, “We don’t know for sure. Some operatives who are undercover have passed along information that leads us to believe some of the high-ranking officials in the Russian government and military are HYDRA. We didn’t want to take any chances so we told T’Challa. Before the attack, he sent a secure message to us. Said he’d get you out if we could pick you up.”

Bucky didn’t know what to say. Suddenly it went from having nothing to do with him to maybe having everything to do with him. Why couldn’t they just leave him alone? Why couldn’t he just disappear? “Is this on me?” he asked Steve.

“No, Buck. This isn’t on you. You didn’t do anything.”

“Doesn’t feel that way.”

Steve put his hands on his hips and looked down at Bucky. “Go get dressed. We’re going to a safehouse.”

“Stark still want my head?”

“Not exactly. It’s been almost two years. A lot has happened.”

Bucky stood, his joints still aching a bit from the cryo. It would take him a few more hours to get to get back to normal. Coming out of cryo without the usual protocol was difficult and shocking to the body, even an altered one like his.

///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\

**[8:21pm, April 25th, Tennessee]**

“None of the safehouses will work. They are all connected to the government in some way, mostly old SHIELD places. If they make the connection and find him in a government safehouse, then we’re screwed,” Natasha said.

“We don’t even know that this has anything to do with him,” Steve argued.

“Assuming the audio evidence against T’Challa has been modified or created by the Russian government or those operating within it, there is a sixty-eight percent probability that Mr. Barnes is, at least in part, the catalyst for the conflict.” The man who spoke was called Vision by Steve. His face was red and his spandex suit was blue. He had a cape and looked like he was something other than human. He acted like a robot, but with all these mutants nowadays, you never could be sure. What Vision said didn’t make Bucky feel any better about the situation.

“We can’t make assumptions when we don’t know important fact,,” Sam said. Bucky was glad for his familiar face, but would have only admitted it grudgingly.

“But we can’t put him in a safehouse and risk an internal link that is going to pull the United States government into the conflict between Wakanda and Russia,” Natasha replied.

“Maybe we _should_ be involved.” Steve was pacing the floor of the small log cabin in the heart of rural Tennessee. They’d arrived an hour ago and shortly after that Vision had arrived with a woman named Wanda and a man named Bruce Banner.

Clint snorted from his spot in front of the fireplace. “You love starting those fights, don’t ya, Cap?”

“This is an injustice,” Steve said. “We have proof that the Russian government has…”

“We don’t have proof,” Natasha replied. “We have intelligence that points to that. We have proof that some members of the military and government have ties to HYDRA. The public thinks HYDRA is dead. It’s been gone for years. They’re not going to buy it.”

Bruce, who hadn’t said anything since he’d arrived, pulled his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose. “She’s right, Steve. The government can’t enter this conflict without taking sides. And we don’t know if the audio of T’Challa is fabricated.”

“It is,” Steve replied, not a doubt in his voice.

“And if it is, then putting Barnes in a safe house could be a risk. Let’s assume you’re correct and HYDRA, working through the Russian government, was able to locate Barnes in Wakanda. His location–his identity–was only known by a handful of individuals. Their intelligence network must be extensive if they did find him. And, if so, how are we going to do any better if we use a place on the government’s list? A mole could out him easily. And then HYDRA could extract him and bring him back into their fold. They could kill him. They could start a war with the United States. They wouldn't think twice about fabricating evidence to show the assassin who took out the Russian diplomat was the infamous James Barnes from a few years back, from the bombing of Sokovia during the signing of the Accords.”

“That was disproved,” Steve snapped.

“Memory is only as good as people want it to be. And the governments will go with public opinion. Russia could say we’re harboring a criminal.”

“So what do we do, then?” Steve asked, turning to look at Bruce who was seated in an armchair by the door. Clint shrugged from his spot by the fireplace.

Wanda was seated on the end of the couch and Vision was standing beside her. “I don’t have any answers, Steve. But he’s right. Best case, HYDRA finds him and gets him back. Worst case, we start a war.”

“Statistically…” Vision started to say.

“Don’t,” Sam warned him. “We’ve had enough statistics.”

“We need to find a place not associated with the government,” Bruce offered.

“And not associated with any of us,” Natasha said. When Steve opened his mouth, she added, “I know you are going to say your apartment in Brooklyn, but that’s not happening. Too many eyes. Too many cameras, surveillance, whatever. It wouldn’t work.”

“Then where?” Steve looked at everyone in the room except at Bucky.

Bucky was still nauseous, but it wasn’t from the aftereffects of the rude awakening from cryo. It was from the argument happening right in front of his face. People–most of them strangers–trying to figure out where to put him. Like he was a leper. Everything he touched went to shit. _Everything_.

The pair of sweatpants and the hoodie Steve had given him had been difficult to put on with one arm. He’d spent fifteen minutes in the bathroom of the quinjet trying to figure out how to pull the zipper on the hoodie up with just one hand. By the time he’d accomplished dressing himself, he’d felt exhausted and disgusted. He’d dry-heaved into the toilet, spitting out the excess saliva that his nausea had produced, and then he’d splashed some water on his face and reemerged to Steve buzzing around him like a mother hen.

When they’d arrived at the cabin in a foggy valley of Tennessee under the cover of darkness, he’d taken up a spot in the corner furthest from the door. There was a low bench underneath a window there. He’d been sitting on the bench trying to remove himself from consciousness. Without slamming his head against the floorboard, he wasn’t sure there was a way to accomplish that without drugs.

There was a gun underneath the bench, though. He’d been thinking about it for the past twenty minutes. He could reach down and grab it. It would only take a couple seconds to bring it up to his head and pull the trigger. Only a couple seconds and this could be over for him. And for them. He was poison, and he’d already caused enough problems, enough pain and suffering. He’d been an instrument in wars and conflicts for decades. He didn’t want to be the catalyst for starting another. Vision’s statistics were damning.

Wouldn’t that just be the best thing? A shot to the head and Steve would be free to live his life without worrying about the shell of a man that his old friend had become. HYDRA wouldn’t be able to use their favorite weapon any longer. Just a couple seconds and it could be over, and he could be numb.

His right index finger twitched. The gun was a forty-five. Even if it wasn’t loaded with hollow-points, a forty-five to the head would be an instantaneous death. Bucky leaned forward, his forearm braced on his knees and his head hanging down. The glint of the gun’s nickel finish was easy to see from this vantage point. Now he just had to bend over and pick it up. He’d have to be fast, though. Steve would try to stop him. His finger twitched again as he thought about pulling the trigger, thought about how the muzzle would feel against his temple.

It would be easier with his prosthetic. Not having it was throwing his balance off a bit, making quick movements more difficult. But he could still do it. He hunched down a little more, letting his arm slide off his knee to hang between his legs. The gun was only inches away. Only a couple seconds from oblivion.

The door banged open with a thud, making Bucky jerk to attention.

“You have no idea what a pain in the ass it is to track a god down.” The voice belonged to Tony Stark, someone Bucky was all too familiar with. Maybe he wouldn’t have to kill himself. Maybe Stark would walk over and pummel him to death. Steve wouldn’t let him, his mind supplied. But the rest of them could restrain Steve while Stark put Bucky out of his misery.

“Friends, it has been too long!” A man with long blonde hair and some sort of leather armour walked in behind Tony, a wide smile on his face. A red cape brushed over his bare arms as he threw them out in greeting. “Too long!” he said again. “How are my brothers and sisters in combat?”

“He’s been like this since I found him,” Tony said with a roll of his eyes. “You need to tone it down, buddy.”

“Tone what down? My pleasure at being reunited with my…”

“Yeah, tone all that down,” Tony replied.

Bucky tensed when Tony’s gaze passed over Steve to settle on the bench at the far side of the room.

“Tony,” Steve warned. “We agreed…”

Tony lifted a hand to wave away whatever Steve was about to say. “Yeah, yeah, we’re good. He’s all Manchurian Candidate. My jets are cooled. Still don’t like the asshole, though.”

Thor was trying to hug Vision. Vision seemed as uncomfortable as an android could be. “What is the plan, my friends?” Thor asked, giving up and clapping Vision on the back with a heavy hand.

“Yeah, where are we stowing our little problem child until this shitstorm blows over?” Tony asked, plopping down between Wanda and Natasha. “Hey,” he added, looking over at Bucky again. “You’re not going to go all assassin on me, right? I know things were a little dicey the last time we saw each other.”

Bucky didn’t know what to say. Even if Tony wanted a fight, he didn’t think he could take the other man. He was missing an arm and had no desire to fight. He’d rather just die. And he’d been so close to it before the door opened.

“Like I said, you’re still an asshole, but perspective: I have it.” Tony pointed at him. “You step outta line, though…”

“Shut up, Stark,” Sam said.

“We need a safe house for him,” Natasha said, looking from Tony to Thor. “Either of you know of a place?”

Tony shrugged. “Stark Industries owns a place up in northern Saskatchewan. Remote. No neighbors. Buck-sicle here will feel right at home since it’s cold as balls up that way.”

“If he’s discovered, we could say he broke into an unoccupied Stark Industries property,” Bruce added.

“No,” Steve said, resuming his pacing. “He can’t be up there alone.”

“Steve, we don’t really have a choice,” Natasha replied.

Bucky leaned forward again. If he could get to the gun then this could be over. He could be done feeling like a murderer, a burden, a worthless piece of shit who should have died eighty years ago. He dropped his head and stared at the satin nickel finish of the gun. It was a Sig Sauer–expensive and reliable. It would do just fine.

“Not alone,” Steve repeated. “He needs company.”

“We need to be realistic, Steve. Anyone we involve outside of us could be in danger or–possibly worse–could betray us and turn him over. Which could cause an international incident at this point,” Bruce said.

Bucky dropped his right arm–his only arm–to hang between his legs, the fingertips brushing the floor.

“As much as I would have loved to see you blow your brains out a couple years back, cleaning the gore off my grandmother’s curtains would really be a fucking bummer.” The dry voice was Tony’s. Bucky looked up to see the other man watching him with sharp, assessing eyes. Bucky felt like he had lead in his stomach.

“What are you…?” Steve stepped forward and saw the gun. “Bucky, _no_.” His look of shock turned into a look of pain.

“Just doin’ us all a favor,” Bucky muttered, standing up and moving toward the door. He found it difficult to be around people in the best of circumstances. Sitting in a too-small room with nine other people was suffocating and panic-inducing. Air. He needed air. And that fucking gun so he could end this whole charade.

He opened the door and stepped out into the cool night. “Bucky,” Steve called out after him. Ignoring his friend, he stepped across the covered front porch and stood at the top of the steps.

“Just let me do it, punk. We both know it’s what needs to be done. I tried to hide, and I tried to go back into cryo. Neither worked. I’m a fuckin’ mess, and I’m screwing up everything.” He didn’t look behind him, but he knew Steve was there.

“This isn’t your fault. I’ll go to Saskatchewan with you.”

“Steve, come on. This is just delaying the inevitable. I’m a danger to everyone. I shouldn’t even be alive.”

“Bucky, no. You’re the victim here. They did this, not you.”

“I’ll go on my own. I’ll stay there.” He looked over his shoulder and saw Steve standing in the doorway, looking like he was losing his best friend. He hadn’t even spent that much time with the punk. It had all been running and fighting and death since they’d been reunited. Bucky didn’t understand why Steve cared that much; he had a whole life to live that had nothing to do with a ghost from nineteen-forty-five. “If they find me, I’ll put a bullet in my head before they can take me.”

“No, we’ll figure something else out.”

“It’s for the best. I can’t be around people. Not now.”

The voices of the team inside rose. He could hear the caped, blond guy talking. He must be Thor. He looked like Thor. Steve turned around to hear what was being said.

Bucky’s mind felt numb, but his chest felt tight, like a ten ton weight was pressing down on him. The wind picked up and blew his hair into his face. He raised his left hand to brush it away, only then realizing that his left hand wasn’t there. The hair flapped in his face. He wanted this to end. It was too much.

Descending the three steps, he stood in the dirt by the porch with his hand on the railing while he bent over and dry heaved into the weeds growing along the foundation of the cabin. Just like in the plane, nothing came out but saliva.

“I must have your word he will not hurt her,” Thor said. He spoke with gravity, like everything said was a fucking proclamation. Guess being royalty would do that.

“Bucky, come in here,” Steve said, walking to the top of the steps and looking down. “Come in here. We might have a solution.”

“I _have_ a solution, punk.”

“That’s not a solution. Thor might know someone who can help.”

Bucky’s stomach curdled at the idea of a babysitter. A handler. This time when he bent over, he threw up yellow bile. It burned and tasted sour. “No. I don’t want a caretaker. I’ll go to Saskatchewan by myself,” he said, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of the hoodie.

Steve stepped down to stand beside him. “Let’s just talk about it. I’m sorry. We’ve been talking about you like you’re not here. That… I shouldn’t have done that. Come inside. Final decision is up to you.”

“You know my decision.” To blow my brains out went unsaid.

“That’s not an option. It can’t be.”

Bucky spit the sour saliva in his mouth out onto the dirt by the steps and followed Steve back into the house.

“Your word, Steve Rogers,” Thor said when they walked in the door.

“You have my word. And you have his word.”

“I do not know his character, but I know yours.”

“His character is the same as mine. He would never hurt anyone unless they were trying to hurt him.”

“Ehhhh, he kinda killed my parents,” Tony said from the couch.

Bucky wanted to turn around and walk out. “That wasn’t him,” Steve said, his face turning a bright red. “And you know it, Stark. You…”

Tony waved away what Steve was about to say. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Brainwashing and all that jazz.”

The gun was gone. Someone had taken it from under the bench. Bucky assumed it had been left there in this safehouse in case hostiles arrived. It was tucked away in someone’s jacket or in a locked drawer now that unstable Bucky Barnes was around.

“And can you assure me this brainwashing he speaks of will not put her in danger?”

_God_ , what were they talking about? He should be dead. He should be buried in a shallow grave in the middle of nowhere right where he fell off the fucking train. When he escaped from HYDRA, he’d thought he could keep his head down and live quietly. It had become perfectly clear that it just wasn’t possible.

“I give you my word he would never hurt her.” Steve sounded so sure of himself. Bucky wasn’t so sure. He was far from sure, actually. Who was she?

“Are you sure, Steve?” Natasha voiced the question that Bucky was thinking.

“She’s a civilian. HYDRA doesn’t even know about her. Taking her out won’t be necessary even if the worst happened,” Steve reasoned.

“I’ll kill myself if they find me,” Bucky said from behind Steve.

The room got uncomfortably quiet. Bruce cleared his throat and shifted in the chair. “Well, I think we can all agree he’s serious, considering…” Yeah, Bucky thought, considering I was so close to doing it with an audience of nine superheros.

“Where is she?” Steve asked.

“In the desert. Only a few leagues from the place I landed when my father exiled me,” Thor said.

“Yeeeeeeah, we’re gonna need the name of a town, blondie,” Tony said.


	2. Chapter 2

> _“Yes, and try to ignore all this blood on the floor. It’s just this heart on my sleeve that’s bleeding.” - Burn (Ray LaMontagne)_

**[1:43am, April 26th, New Mexico]**

Bucky was sitting in the backseat of a beat-up, purple Dodge Durango. The landscape around him was mostly flat with a few gentle hills. In the distance he could make out the looming shadows of larger mountains, craggy and rough. Trees were few and far between with most of the vegetation just rough weeds or bushes that could grow with little water.

They had landed the quinjet an hour outside of Albuquerque on the empty mesa. Sam had flown out and stolen the vehicle from a casino off the interstate. Steve drove with Sam in the passenger seat and Bucky and Thor in the backseat. Thor spent the two hour drive watching Bucky intently. If he’d been a little less exhausted and a lot less disgusted with himself, he would have told Thor to take a fucking picture.

“She is my lady love’s dear friend and I consider her one as well,” Thor said as Steve pulled onto a dirt road. The road was rough and the tires stirred up a heavy cloud of dust. “I see in your eyes you would not hurt her, but I require your word you will protect her should you bring danger upon her.”

Bucky shifted closer to the door. The entire ride made him uncomfortable, and he didn’t even know who this Darcy was. He didn’t want to be left in some shack in the desert with a strange woman who was supposed to be a babysitter. “I’ll do my best,” he muttered, mostly to get Thor to quit staring him down.

The vehicle rolled to a stop in front of a small house. It was elevated above the road and had a clear view in all directions. You could see lights from the main road through the small town, but it was over a mile away. The place was remote. Not as much as Saskatchewan, but more remote than Brooklyn, by a long shot. He sat there in the dark with his eyes closed, feeling defeated. His stomach rumbled, begging for food. He’d been out of cryo for almost a day, and he hadn’t eaten a thing. Honestly, he didn’t have an appetite, not even with the hunger pains. What he wouldn’t give to get blackout drunk right about now.

He sat there for almost an hour. Steve would open the door of the modest little house every now and then, a sliver of light cutting through the darkness of the night. He was checking on Bucky. Should have grabbed the gun and pulled the trigger when I had a chance, Bucky thought. Then his friend would be free of all that worry. Closing his eyes again, he leaned his head back. God, he was fucking exhausted.

There were footsteps crunching over the dry dirt of the driveway. Not Steve’s. Lighter than Thor’s. The stride too short to be Sam’s. He lifted his head and opened his eyes when the back door on the other side of the Durango opened. The overhead light blinked on to reveal a young brunnette. He saw blue eyes, full red lips, creamy skin, glossy dark brown hair. She looked at him for a moment and then slipped inside to sit on the other end of the bench seat. The door closed and the light went out.

She smelled like fresh citrus. Limes or lemons. He turned his gaze forward to look at the back of the passenger seat and breathed in deep. He’d been expecting someone older. A motherly woman in a prairie skirt and a Christmas sweater with her hair in a bun. Someone Steve had swindled into cooking nice meals and making sure Bucky didn’t hang himself in the bathroom. The girl sitting next to him didn’t look like that.

“So, do you have to look like a hot male model to be friends with Thor? Because _damn_.” Her voice was also not what he expected. No sweet, lilting softness. Instead he got humor, sarcasm and self-deprecation. The fact that she didn’t ask him how he was released a tightness he didn’t realize he’d been holding in his chest.

“I’m not friends with Thor.”

“He says you are. Thor makes friends fast. I tazed him and we were friends right after he woke up. It’s weird, but he’s, like, an alien so… there’s that.”

Bucky didn’t know what to say, how to carry on a conversation with some girl who’d probably just been told he was a dangerous, unhinged piece of shit who kept causing trouble. “You Darcy?” he asked just to be sure.

“The one and only. Thor says you need a place to lay low for a while.”

That was real sweet of her. Pretending like he didn’t need a handler. “Something like that,” he said.

“So, I have to collect data for six more weeks and it’s super fucking boring out here in the middle of nowhere. Wanna keep me company?” He could feel her eyes on him, but he refused to look at her. She was pretty and that bothered him, more than a little. He didn’t need some pretty, young girl taking care of him.

“Not really,” he replied.

“Well, guess you’re shit out of luck,” she said. It sounded like she was smiling. He still refused to look. “Because those three dudes in there are all up in your business and think you need a little vay-kay in New Mexico. I got a hot tub. That change your mind?”

Bucky finally looked her way. Her head was turned and her chin was resting on her shoulder. He could see her eyes and her dark lips and the curve of her nose. “They tell you what you’re getting into?” he asked.

“More or less.”

“I’m a….”

She smiled and cut him off. “I saw you on the news. Back when you were strutting around D.C. and smashing cars on the freeway. Captain America says you’re way nicer now, and Captain America never lies. Or at least that’s what my second grade teacher told me.” She paused. “Is it true?”

“Is what true?”

“That Captain America never lies.”

Bucky shook his head and looked away from her. She was confusing. She should be worried, scared, on edge. Instead, she was sitting in the back seat of a stolen SUV in the middle of nowhere with him—a piece of shit, brainwashed, nothing-but-trouble HYDRA assassin–and she seemed as at ease as if she were having dinner with an old friend. “Tell them you won’t do this. I’ll go to northern Canada and hide out.”

“Why?”

“I’ll put you in danger. I’m a murderer.”

“Look, I’m desperate for company, so I’ll take my chances. Think of this like community services for all your bad deeds. You’ve been sentenced to a few weeks in New Mexico to hang out with a stir-crazy grad school dropout while she makes sure fancy equipment stays plugged in and pointing at the sky.”

“Stop trying to make me feel better,” he snapped, looking out the window at the split rail fence that separated the yard from an overgrown field with an old barn. He could barely see it by the moonlight, even with his enhanced eyesight.

She opened the door and slipped out of the car. “You can have the bedroom with the better view because I’m nice,” she said before shutting the door and making her way back into the house. He watched her silhouette until she opened the door. The warm light from the house spilled out and allowed him to see that she wore jeans and a long sweater. She was too young to get mixed up in this. She didn’t realize the gravity of the situation.

Her scent lingered in the vehicle, slightly sweet. He pulled in a deep breath through his nose until his lungs couldn’t hold any more. The door to the house opened and Steve came out with Sam. The two men approached the SUV and stood in front of the hood. Steve had his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans. Sam was talking to him with his hands on his hips. Bucky waited a full two minutes before he sighed and opened the door. They turned toward him as he came around the car.

“What do you think?” Steve asked.

“You shouldn’t get her wrapped up in something that could kill her,” Bucky said.

“I don’t know what I was expecting, but she’s not it,” Steve admitted.

Bucky snorted. “Yeah, agreed.”

“But I like her. She’s…” Steve trailed off and shrugged.

“Yeah,” Bucky said again.

“She’s cute,” Sam said, nodding at the house. “Got a smart mouth, though.”

“Yeah.” It was all he could think to say. It was all true. She was cute with a smart mouth. She was unexpected, and she was an innocent civilian who didn’t need to get involved. “I think I should go to Saskatchewan. We shouldn’t do this to her.”

“Buck, you shouldn’t be alone right now. I think she could be good for you.”

Bucky leaned back onto the hood of the car. “I’d be bad for her.”

“Maybe this is what you need. Somewhere they can’t find you, where you can relax and catch your breath,” Sam said. “With someone who won’t put up with any crap and will tell you when you’re in your head too much. Besides, she’s friends with Thor. Not like she’s never seen any shit before. Didn’t flinch when we showed her your file.”

Bucky felt nauseous over the thought of them showing that girl his file. He felt naked and disgusting. How could she have even looked at him when she came out there? How could she treat him like all that shit in his file was nothing? She must be fucked up just like him.

“It’s your choice, Bucky,” Steve said. “I like her, and I think she’d leave you alone if you asked her. Or keep you company if you want that.”

“Warmer here than Canada,” Sam added. “The house is nice. You’d get your own bedroom and there’s space to breathe.”

“What if I say no?”

Steve sighed and turned his back on them. Bucky could tell that he was frustrated and worried. Steve thought if Bucky went to the place in northern Canada that his friend would blow his head off with a shotgun, and there was a real good chance of it. But the way it was hurting Steve made Bucky feel sick with guilt.

“Your call, man,” Sam said. “I think you should give it a shot, though. You don’t like it here–you don't like her–then we can go to plan B.”

“Bucky, please,” Steve said, turning back around to face him.

She’d been so flippant with him. Treated him like he was some guy who needed a sofa to crash on. She didn’t seem to even care that he was on the fucking edge of sanity, and she surely had to know it if they’d showed her his file. “She see everything?”

“Unredacted with all the dirty details,” Sam said. “I gave her my professional opinion, too. Didn’t pull any punches. She’s smarter than you think.”

“She knows what she’s getting into, Bucky,” Steve added.

Fuck it. Steve deserved to not worry, even if it was for just a few weeks. “Fine,” Bucky said, “I’ll stay here.”

///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\////\\\\\

**[3:32am, April 26th, New Mexico]**

The bed was comfortable. More so than the caved in mattress he’d slept on in Bucharest. More so than the various chairs and floors and borrowed beds in between waking up a killer years ago and putting himself into cryo intentionally. He didn’t deserve it. Didn’t deserve any of this.

The bedroom was small and decorated in a southwest theme with a neutral color palette–all browns and tans and blacks with the occasional rusty red. There wasn’t much room for anything but the bed, a nightstand on the far side the bed, and a dresser with six drawers. There was a window looking out on the side yard, which was still covered in darkness. Sunrise was still at least an hour or two away. Just to the left of the foot of the bed, there was a window. It opened onto a small patio that was enclosed with a low wall. A tiny bistro set was visible from the light of the living room window right next to his room. And he could also make out a hulking hot tub that was covered.

He went through the drawers–all of which were empty with the exception of one. In the bottom right-hand drawer of the dresser was a note written in Steve’s chicken scratch.

_I’ll never forgive you if you use this when you don’t have to. I’m leaving it just in case things go bad and it’s the only way to save yourself or her._

Underneath the note was the nineteen-eleven, nickel-plated pistol that he’d been reaching for in the Tennessee safe house. Discovering it gave him mixed emotions. Relief that he wasn’t without protection–from others or himself–in this sorry state, one-armed and sick with self-loathing. The other emotion was fear, a sort of certainty that the gun would be the end of him. He didn’t touch it. In fact, he put Steve’s note back on top of it and pushed the drawer shut. And then he let himself fall back onto the bed.

Unknowingly and without any effort, he fell asleep on top of the covers. The sunlight from the window woke him just after noon. The first thing he thought about was the gun in the drawer. Fast on the heels of that was _her_. Thor’s friend Darcy. He hadn’t spoken to her when he’d come inside early that morning. She’d been standing by the island in the kitchen smiling at Thor, poking him in the chest like he was just some silly boy. Who did she think these guys were? She treated them like they were nothing. No, not nothing. She treated them like they were normal.

He’d scoped out the layout of the place–an open living room and kitchen area that were separated by a rustic wooden island, a door that opened onto a patio and a large window with a view, a bedroom to the left and another to the right. The bathroom was sandwiched between his bedroom–the one on the right–and the kitchen. After gathering the intel, he’d gone directly to the bedroom and sat on the foot of the bed while Steve asked him fifteen times if he was going to be okay. After they’d left him alone with the girl, he’d closed the bedroom door. Hiding. That’s what he was doing even now.

When he finally got up the courage to crack open the door, he found the way blocked by three large paper shopping bags. Opening the door wider, he looked down into the closest one.

“I like spending someone else’s money, so I bought you clothes.”

He looked up to see her sitting on a high stool at the wooden island. A laptop was in front of her and it looked like she’d been working. When he locked eyes with her she smiled at him, not a hint of fear in her. Not a hint of judgement or concern either. God, it had been fucking decades since a dame had smiled at him like that. Like he was just another guy.

“I had to guess at your size. I can take back anything you don’t want,” she said. “Hey, are you hungry? Did you eat before they dragged you out here to the boonies?”

Bucky opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“What do you like? Breakfast food like eggs and bacon? Soup and sandwich for lunch? I have chocolate cake if you’ve got a sweet tooth.”

“I… I’m not hungry.”

She shrugged and turned back to her laptop. “Sure you aren’t. Sure.”

He was lying and she knew it. “Breakfast,” he finally said. Was she actually going to cook for him? Were they paying her to be his babysitter _and_ his cook?

“Ten-four, dude. Breakfast it is.” When she slipped off the stool, he ducked back into the bedroom and closed the door. And then he opened it again so he could pull the bags inside. He felt like an intruder in her home. She wasn’t treating him that way, but that didn’t change how uncomfortable this was for him. He should have gone to Saskatchewan where it was cold and miserable. Where he could be alone and if he decided to blow his brains out he wouldn’t have to feel guilty that some girl like her would find his body.

Fuck.

She’d bought him two packs of boxers, several T-shirts in various colors, black sweatpants, some basketball shorts, a couple hoodies, plain white socks, swimming trunks, a pair of running shoes, and a pair of slider sandals. Everything was nondescript and basic, unobjectionable. She’d gone out of her way to shop for him. She was out there right now fixing him something to eat. It made him feel conflicted. Part of him felt warm inside, flattered by her easy way of offering help without making it seem like he should be crawling around giving her thanks. Another part of him felt like more of a piece of shit for letting her take care of someone like him. He did not deserve her generosity. All of it made him uncomfortable.

Bucky ripped open the plastic bag that held the plaid boxers and pulled a pair out. It took some doing with only one arm. He kept trying to move his left–the missing prosthetic–and it each time it was surprising to find it gone. He’d had it for so many years that living without it felt odd. After wadding up the boxers with a white T-shirt and a pair of black sweatpants, he slipped out of the bedroom and into the bathroom right next door.

He could smell bacon cooking. His stomach rumbled while he struggled to unzip the hoodie in the narrow bathroom. The shower was nice–a square tiled stall with a large circular showerhead that mimicked rainfall. After adjusting the water so it was just this side of scalding hot, he locked the door, pushed his pants down to pool on the floor, and stepped into the stall. The silicon cap on his metal shoulder was meant to keep the remainder of the prosthetic clean and dry. Truth be told, he was almost afraid to take it off and look. And if he took it off and couldn’t get it back on, then he’d have to ask her for help. And that’s something he couldn’t stomach.

Her shampoo and conditioner were sitting on the shelf. He had no choice but to use the shampoo since it was his only option. There was also a purple bar of soap that smelled like lavender. He picked it up and ran it over his body, unable to shake the image of her doing the same earlier this morning or last night. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back to let the hot water fall on his upturned face. Thinking about her like that was a bad idea. He didn’t need to think about where her soap had been. Didn’t need to think about whether she used a washcloth or just rubbed the bar against her wet body. His dick twitched.

Sighing, Bucky put the soap back on the little shelf and roughly scrubbed his shoulder with his hand. Not good. He needed to get through the next few weeks with minimal contact with her. That would be difficult to do in such a small house. The least he could do was stop thinking about her taking a shower in this same stall. The least he could do was not be a fucking creep.

He stayed in the shower for longer than he should have, long enough that the hot water ran out and the stream from the showerhead turned chilly. After drying his hair and running the most luxurious towel he’d felt in his life over his body, he stood in front of the bathroom sink and avoided looking at himself in the mirror. She’d left a razor, shaving cream, deodorant, and a still-wrapped toothbrush on the vanity. The toiletries were arranged neatly on the right-hand side, obviously meant for him. It had been a long time since someone had done anything like that. Without a word, she’d already thought to provide things he hadn’t even considered needing.

Bucky skipped the razor, but did brush his teeth before he awkwardly dressed himself with the clothes she’d bought him. Delaying the inevitable, he hung the towel carefully on a silver bar mounted to the wall by the shower. Finally, he opened the bathroom door and tentatively stepped out to look around the corner. She was back on her stool, poking at a laptop between taking bites of food. There was a plate, heaped with eggs, bacon, and six slices of toast, along the side of the island next to her. Intended for him, he presumed.

She looked up from the computer when he approached. “You want orange juice? It’s fresh; I made it this morning when I got back from town.”

Bucky looked at the tall glass of liquid in front of her and suddenly felt like he could drink a gallon of whatever. He’d not had anything since he’d come out of cryo. “Yeah,” he said after clearing his throat and sitting down, the corner of the table the only thing between them.

Without a word, she got up and filled a large glass with orange juice from the fridge. She slipped back onto her stool and pushed it over in front of his plate. “I made a lot. Thor eats, like, all the contents of Jane’s fridge when he’s here so… I figured you dudes need the nutrients or whatever,” she said, picking up her fork and pointing over at his plate. His stomach rumbled and she smiled. “Case in point.”

He really was hungry. Her way of anticipating what he needed before he’d considered it made him uneasy. She should be scared, concerned, nervous. She was anything but that, actually. Bucky didn’t understand, but his desire for food was overriding everything else. He picked up the fork by his plate and shoveled half the eggs into his mouth in less than a minute. He chased them with two pieces of toast before draining the glass of juice. If he’d had better food and drink, then he was hard-pressed to recall it at that moment. While he piled bacon and eggs on another slice of toast to make a sandwich, she slipped the glass away and refilled it. He hadn’t noticed until she pushed it back over in front of him.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice barely audible.

Darcy just smiled at him and went back to her own plate. And while she had less food and a head start, they ended up finishing around the same time. “You need anything that I forgot?” she asked, taking their plates over to the sink.

Bucky watched the back of her head as she rinsed the plates off and put them in the small dishwasher. “No, you thought of everything,” he said, his words sounding stilted and awkward to his ears. She’d thought of everything and more.

She turned around and leaned back against the counter behind her. “It’s my specialty. Figuring out what people need before they do.”

“You're very good at it,” he said, drinking the rest of his juice.

“More?” she asked, nodding at the empty glass.

“No. But… thank you for feeding me.”

“It's what I do.”

“You mean it's what they're paying you to do.”

She laughed at him. “I'm getting paid to watch Jane's sky instruments. You're crashing here for free, and the food was a favor, not a duty. You look like you've had a shitty day so it was the least I could do.”

“I thought they were paying you to babysit me,” he admitted.

Darcy rolled her eyes and smiled at him like he was silly. “Who would pay me? Thor? He thinks dollar bills are strange, and I’d probably have an even more difficult time explaining direct deposit to him. And last I heard Tony Stark thought you were his mortal enemy, so _he’s_ not paying.”

“Steve,” Bucky guessed.

“Yeah, Steve did offer to compensate me for my time. Which is why I went out to that wack purple Durango they were driving around to see if you were an asshole.”

“Why?”

“Because if you were an asshole, then I was gonna make Cap pay.”

“Did he pay?”

Darcy grinned. “Are you asking if I think you’re an asshole?”

Bucky didn’t know how to answer that. He guessed that’s what he was asking.

She pushed off the counter and grabbed his empty glass. She filled it up with more orange juice even though he’d told her he didn’t want more. As she sat the full glass in front of him, she said, “Steve didn’t pay.”

“So I’m not an asshole,” he deduced, before draining half the glass in one go.

“Or I was bored and wanted some eye candy,” she said.

“Eye candy?”

“Something nice to look at,” she said, sitting down on her stool and turning her eyes back to the laptop.

He’d experienced bold women hitting on him during that time in Bucharest, so her comment wasn’t shocking in that a woman was being forward with him. It was shocking in that he felt anything but attractive. Anything but eye candy. “I’m missing an arm,” he blurted out.

Darcy raised her brows like he was off his rocker. “So? Honestly, not hurting your whole look that much. But, yeah, I didn’t think you were an asshole, so I told Cap you could crash here until I blow this popsicle stand in six weeks. It’ll be nice to have someone besides the crazy old woman at the grocery store to talk to. Unless you just want to brood in your bedroom. If so, then you can knock yourself out.”

She was so fucking facetious. Part of him was upset at the way she was treating this like it was just a game, but a larger part of him was relieved. He’d spent so long being treated like he was different, separate, a tool or a burden. Having her treat him like just some other guy was freeing. He knew it was all a facade because he wasn’t just some other guy, but it still felt good to pretend with her for a minute.

“I’m not too great at conversation,” he admitted.

“Practice makes perfect, and I’m out of practice since I’ve been marooned out here for three weeks already. So, we’re probably equals right now.” She poked a couple keys on the laptop. “Have a look around, get your bearings. If you want to go out and check out the town–which is, like, pathetically small–let me know. If you lock yourself up in the bedroom to wallow in self-pity, then I’ll kick your ass.”

She sounded serious, but also sweet. He nodded at her and said, “Yes ma’am,” before slipping off the stool and digging the running shoes out of the box in the bedroom. He’d go for a walk. Get the lay of the land just in case something happened. Just in case they came for him. Just in case.

The house she was staying in was isolated and elevated with arid desert all around. The dirt was a pale brown in some spots and more rusty red in others. Vegetation was sparse and low, wiry bushes and scraggly trees slanted by the winds. The trees were mostly in small clusters, huddling together for protection against the dry, windy desert climate. In the near distance he could see neighboring houses, all of which were probably a half-a-mile or more away and constructed of adobe to blend in with the landscape. In the far distance he could see mountains that looked like massive mounds of jagged rock rising up from the earth.

It was a strange place. So different from where he’d grown up in Brooklyn or from other areas of the world he’d been to as himself or as HYDRA’s Asset. Thinking of his time with HYDRA made his stomach sour. Bucky kicked at the dry earth as he made his way to the dilapidated barn. It was empty for the most part and on the verge of being unsafe. A cluster of instruments in the corner hummed away underneath a white dropcloth. Probably what she was using to monitor whatever they’d put her here to watch. He’d seen more instruments that looked like small satellites scattered across the field around the barn and assumed the heavy cords tied together at the barn door would lead him to them.

Bucky walked back outside and settled down on a weathered wooden bench along the side of the barn. The spot gave him a view of the house, the surrounding field, the long driveway, and the road that intersected it. If he were surveilling, then he’d choose this spot. Good lines of sight and covered by the eave of the structure behind him. Any air traffic directly above wouldn’t be able to make him out.

It was late-April and the mid-afternoon sun was unrelenting. The shade on this side of the barn was refreshing after the walk from the house. It really wasn’t that far, perhaps the length of a football field or two. He sat there and stared down at the clothes he had on. Clothes she had bought for him.

He couldn’t figure out her angle, why she had agreed to this. She’d given bogus reasons like wanting company or liking the way he looked. He’d thought the pay they’d offered was what had sealed the deal, but now that she’d admitted to taking the job for free her reasons for doing this irritated him. People didn’t just help you without getting something in return. He wasn’t good enough company, so that excuse didn’t fly. And he was barely a man, not to mention missing an arm. So, he didn’t see why her jokes about how she wanted eye candy held any weight. Maybe if he were Steve. Maybe if he were whole and knew how to smile at a dame. Maybe then he’d accept that she wanted him around as a man.

So what was her angle? Why was she helping him? If he’d learned one thing in his long life it was that people didn’t just help out of the kindness of their hearts. Except, that wasn’t really true. Steve had gone above and beyond to help him. He could remember helping that punk, too. Way back before the serum and the train. Back when Steve was just a skinny kid. Back when he was clueless about how bad life could get, how inconsequential everything he’d known was. He’d thought he was worldly and tough then when he’d been deployed to Europe. He’d thought wrong.

So, Steve was a good person. Better than him. And if Steve could help without expectation of payment, then couldn’t she? Chances were slim, but there was always that possibility. Time would tell, but he’d keep his distance.

He thought about the gun. The matte silver, the way it felt soft under the pads of his fingers. The smooth metal of the trigger, curving just right around his fingertip. He knew guns intimately. Trusted them. It was a beautiful weapon that could end all this pain. He’d thought about it—ending his life—before in Bucharest, but after squatting in an abandoned building for a month, he’d found a job and rented a shithole. The comfort of a home and the possibility of living a life away from HYDRA and their war was appealing, and it had been fine until reality had crashed back in.

He’d thought maybe if he went back under in Wakanda that when he woke they could pull the programming out of his brain and he could be normal. Or at least as normal as a serum-enhanced former assassin who is missing an arm could be. Except reality had found him again. It was becoming a cycle. And he was tired of the cycle. He wanted off the fucking ride. He wanted some peace of mind, but that didn’t seem to be what life had in store for him.

If he didn’t know full well that she would find his body, then he’d walk in there and blow his brains out right now. But whether he did it in the bedroom or in the barn or in the field, she would be the one to find him. And she’d been too nice–too accommodating and sweet–for him to do that to her. And Steve. Bucky knew it would hurt Steve, but he’d get over it and move on with this life. He’d marry that blonde he’d kissed in Germany and breathe easy again, not having to worry about his old friend who attracted trouble.

Bucky leaned his head back against the barn and sighed. The sun was low on the horizon and would set soon. He couldn’t stay out here forever. Maybe she was thinking about him, wondering where he was and what he was doing. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

And just like that, he saw the door to the house open. She walked out on the porch and stretched, her T-shirt lifting up to reveal her midriff. She leaned against a post that held up the small roof over the doorway and looked up to where he was sitting. He watched as she lifted a hand and gave him a little wave, wiggling her fingers at him. He slowly lifted a hand in acknowledgement. Yeah, he should go inside. Couldn’t hide from her forever.

By the time he got back to the house his feet had kicked up enough dust to cover the toes of the new white running shoes. That old, familiar feeling of guilt gnawed at the back of his mind. She went out of her way to get those for you and you got them dirty, he thought. He almost rolled his eyes at himself, thinking of her like she was his mother or something. She wasn’t. She was far from it.

“You want the dinner menu?” she asked.

There was that guilt again. Here he was always needing someone to take care of him. Hide him, fight for him, transport him, feed him, buy him fucking clothes because he couldn’t do a goddamn thing for himself. “Not hungry,” he muttered, stepping past her and into the house. He practically sprinted to the bedroom and shut the door, leaning back against it. He couldn’t hide forever, but he could hide for now. One day at a time. And he’d had his fill of her today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I neglected to thank my super duper betas: [ChocolateGate (cocosmama)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cocosmama/pseuds/ChocolateGate) and [Bulmaveg_Otaku](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Bulmaveg_Otaku) for their fantastic help while I was writing this fic and dealing with me dumping multiple chapters on them at once with an expectant look on my digital face.


	3. Chapter 3

> “I know the end before the story’s been told. It’s not that complicated, but you’re gonna need a bullet-proof soul.” - Bullet Proof Soul (Sade)

**[6:36am, April 27th, New Mexico]**

That night he had moved the gun. Just to be safe. Just in case. There was a slim drawer in the top of the nightstand where Bucky laid the note from Steve with the gun carefully placed on top. He slept on the right side of the bed, so if he needed it he could extend his arm to pull open the drawer. He could have the gun to his head in a second. He knew that because he’d practiced. Just in case.

If HYDRA found him then he’d need to move fast before they were able to immobilize him and rattle off the triggers that would active his programming. He just hoped they wouldn’t hurt her because he sure as hell couldn’t protect her if he had a bullet in his head. Maybe he should help her with a contingency plan, an escape route. She needed a place to run if they showed up, and they always showed up one way or another.

He woke up underneath soft cotton sheets in a comfortable bed. The feeling was unusual, and because of that it was also distressing. Bucky stretched his legs and rolled over to look outside. He could see the corner of the barn from the north-facing window. The sky was pink with sunrise, and he could hear a few birds chirping. No sound from inside the house, though. He’d locked the bedroom door the previous evening and hidden from her. He’d heard her showering in the bathroom yesterday evening. He’d heard her playing music, singing along under her breath. He’d heard the click of the computer keyboard as she worked. He’d heard the dialogue and soundtrack of a movie playing, and he’d tried his best to block it all out. It was difficult.

He’d fallen asleep sometime after eleven. She’d still been up, watching the movie and moving around the house. It was no surprise he was awake before seven. Sleeping didn’t come easily for him and hadn’t since the war. Gingerly, he pulled on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt before he cracked open the door to find the house in darkness. The only light was the weak glow of early morning filtering through the sheer curtains of the living room windows. Her bedroom door was closed.

Exhaling a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, he slipped into the bathroom to go through his morning rituals. The two years in cryo had passed in the blink of an eye and it was so easy to pick up the old routines. No shower, though. He was afraid it would wake her and then he’d have to talk. He’d have to feel her eyes on him, and as kind and easy as she was being, she still made him feel like shit.

Maybe he could make her breakfast. Pull his weight instead of sitting on his ass while everyone did everything for him. Bucky did his best to search and find the pans and cooking utensils without making too much noise. There were half a dozen eggs left in the fridge and frozen sausage patties in the freezer. Easy enough. He couldn’t bake a quiche, but he could fry up eggs and sausage with only a little difficulty. Cracking the eggs was a challenge with one hand, so he settled on scrambled eggs after half the yolks broke.

The food was nearly done when he heard the click of a door. Her door. His shoulders tensed, pulling the muscles in his neck tight. He held his breath, waiting for her to say something, but she didn’t. Another click and he realized she’d gone into the bathroom. He flipped the sausage patties and turned the burner below the eggs off.

She walked into the kitchen in a pair of shorts that barely covered her ass and a V-neck T-shirt that hugged her tits. Bucky turned away from her to focus on the food. Anything but her. Darcy pulled open a drawer and produced a loaf of bread. He watched from the corner of his eye as she dropped four slices into a toaster by the fridge. After that was done, she started the coffee machine.

“How’d you sleep?” she asked.

No mention of yesterday and him hiding in his room like a fucking teenager. “Good,” he said.

“Sometimes it’s too quiet out here for me. I have to turn on a fan or the TV for noise.”

He didn’t know what to say, so he pressed his lips together and turned off the burner below the sausage. She was rummaging in a cabinet next to him, pulling out two plates and handing them over. He took them and started dividing the food up

The sound of the toast popping up almost made him jump out of his skin. She laughed softly under her breath. “That gets me every time, too,” Darcy told him before saying, “Put more of those eggs on your plate. And I only want one sausage.”

“Okay.” Damn, he sounded like an idiot.

“You really are some kinda dreamboat, aren't you? Those eyes and those muscles _and_ you cook breakfast?” He was rusty at social cues and interactions, but he was fairly sure she was teasing him in a nice way. In a good-natured way.

He watched her as she pulled the toast out of their slots and dropped two pieces on his plate sitting on the counter. She put the other two pieces on the plate he was holding before taking it from him. “I burned the eggs a little,” he told her.

“Hey, I'm not complaining. No one has cooked for me since…. Huh. Since my mom, I guess.” Darcy took her plate over to the island and sat down on her stool. “Damn,” she said more to herself than to him. “I've had really shitty boyfriends.”

He picked up his plate and followed her, sitting on the side of the island just to the left of her. She'd put out a couple forks and he took one. “None of them ever cooked for you?” he asked, mumbling the question like he didn't want to ask it. He did, though. He wanted to know.

She folded up the sausage patty in one of her pieces of toast. “Not a damn one. Fuckers.”

Bucky couldn't suppress the startled snort of laughter than escaped his nose. He was aware enough to know that eighty years changed a lot of things, including gender rolls. He wouldn’t have been opposed to cooking for a woman back before his life fell apart, especially if it was a morning after situation. But he had probably been in the minority back then. Now men did that frequently and women expected it. Why hadn’t her boyfriends cooked for her? Maybe she was just saying that. Maybe she was exaggerating. He wondered what it would be like to spend the night with her. To cook her breakfast because they had slept together.

She smiled at him and winked before getting up to pour two cups of coffee. “How do you take it? Black? You look like you're a classic kinda guy.”

“Cream,” he said.

Darcy put her mug down by her plate and took his over to the fridge. He watched as she produced a small container of creamer from the shelf in the door. “Say when,” she told him.

He watched as she tipped the carton and allowed a thin stream of cream to pour over his coffee. When he let her continue, she raised her brows at him. Finally he stopped her by saying, “That's good.”

Darcy returned the creamer and gave him his mug of coffee. It was filled to the brim because of the extra cream. “You're just full of surprises,” she said, gesturing at the coffee. “Don't tell me you wear tighty-whities, too. I had you pegged as a boxer kinda guy and bought accordingly.”

“What you bought is fine.”

“Not my question,” she pointed out.

Bucky turned his head so his hair fell over his cheek, giving him some protection from her assessing gaze. “I wear whatever.” Why was she asking him about his underwear?

Darcy’s brows were raised so high they were creeping up to her hairline. “Oh, really? Then I need to go shopping again. If you wear whatever, then I might have some ideas. How do you feel about T-shirts that are a couple sizes too small? Booty shorts, maybe?”

He huffed out a breathy, uncomfortable laugh. Was she joking or flirting? He'd lost his skills with women sometime between the train and now. “I don’t know what those are,” he admitted, shoving a forkful of eggs into his mouth.

“Nah, I won’t do that to you. You gotta keep your dignity,” she said with a grin. She watched him over the rim of her coffee mug.

“I’m not sure I have much dignity left,” Bucky muttered. He’d said it without thinking. He’d said it because he was resentful of everything, including the way she treated him like he was normal, like he wasn’t a poisonous disaster.

Darcy rolled her eyes at him. “Sure you do.”

“You know everything about me. You know what I am.”

“The file? Yeah, I saw that. It had a bunch of shit about your past, but didn’t really tell me who you are.”

“I’m sure Steve and Sam gave you all the details,” he replied, focusing on his plate instead of her face.

“Steve thinks you’re the bee’s knees. And Sam thinks you have PTSD.”

“And what do you think?”

“That you need people to get off your balls and leave you alone,” she replied without a pause.

He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting her to say, but it certainly wasn’t that. His eyes had jerked up to look at her. She wasn’t even watching him as she speared her fork into the eggs at the edge of her plate.

When he didn’t reply, she said, “Don’t tell me I’m not right. Sometimes you just need to be left alone so you can live your life and sort shit out. Steve seems like one of those guys that would buzz around you and worry like someone’s mom. And Sam is a shrink, so he wants to fix everybody.”

“And you are what?” he asked, trying to keep his intense curiosity out of his voice.

“A research assistant who is letting a friend of a friend crash in the extra bedroom of her rented house.”

“I’m not his friend.”

“Yeah, you are. Thor thinks everyone is his friend.”

“How did you meet him?”

She popped a piece of her toast into her mouth. After she’d finished chewing, she said, “He fell out of the sky near here. Jane–my illustrious astrophysicist employer–hit him with her car. When he got up he was really fucking weird, so I tazed him. He and Jane are a thing now. Totes in love and all that cute shit.”

He watched her as she finished the food left on her plate and drained the last of the coffee in her mug. Bucky still couldn’t get a handle on Darcy. He’d never met anyone quite like her.

“Hey, thanks for breakfast. I gotta go make sure the little guys out there are doing their thing.” She poked her thumb over her shoulder toward the door.

“Little guys?”

“Little satellite mah-jigs that live in the field around the barn. Gotta check ‘em every morning.” She walked into her bedroom and emerged a couple minutes later in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. She had boots on her feet. “You didn’t burn the eggs, by the way,” she said on her way out the door.

He cleaned up after himself, but with considerable difficulty. The missing arm was frustrating. He kept expecting it to be there and had broken a coffee mug while trying to load the dishwasher. He hid his shame—the shards of ceramic—in a paper towel and shoved it deep in the trash can beneath some of his uneaten eggs.

While she was still out, he took a quick shower and dressed himself in fresh clothes. Clothes she'd picked out for him. The thought made the shirt feel heavy on his shoulders. She’d come back inside while he was in the bathroom and started fiddling with the computer on the sofa. Her brows were creased in concentration.

“Gonna get some fresh air,” he told her as he moved toward the door.

“Ten-four,” was her only reply.

Bucky spent the morning sitting outside the barn and watching the sparse traffic travel up and down the main road in the distance. The chirps of birds had died down to almost nothing as the sun hit it's zenith. The dry air was deceiving because he wasn't sweating and yet he could feel the glare of the sun beginning to burn his skin. He closed his eyes and waited it out. Another twenty minutes passed and the barn was casting shade over his body. Only the tops of his shoes were covered with sunlight.

Was this how his days would be now? Breakfast with her and then hours of sitting by himself, hiding so he didn't have to put forth the effort to make conversation? So he didn't have to pretend like he wasn't broken so she wasn't uncomfortable around him? He closed his eyes and pulled in a deep breath. What did she really think of him, though? He wished he knew. Not that it would change anything. It'd just be nice not to be lied to or spared because Steve and Sam had told her he was a suicidal mess.

The day hadn’t cooled off yet, but it was close to it when she opened the door and gave him a wave. And then she slipped into the black car in the driveway and pulled out, leaving a trail of dust behind her. He counted the minutes. It had to have been at least forty before he saw her car make its way up the driveway again.

She got out and stood by the car with her hands on her hips. “Hey!” she called to him. “Come here and do your manly duty.”

Bucky wasn't sure what that meant, but he wasn't about to tell her no. He pushed off the bench and made his way down the gentle slope of the field. She had opened the trunk. The car was a tiny convertible coupe with a cloth top that folded back. She had it up, probably to protect the interior from the dust when it kicked up around here. When he came to a stop next to her, he saw a few paper grocery bags and a large watermelon in the trunk. She had already grabbed one of the bags and started toward the house.

He scooped up the watermelon, wishing he wasn't missing an arm. It took him two more trips before he had everything inside. She was bent over at the waist and stowing food in the bottom of the fridge. He swallowed and diverted his eyes from the way the jeans stretched tight over her ass. Not for him. Never ever for him.

“Thanks,” she told him, lifting herself up and taking the last bag from him. “As you were, Sarge.”

He didn't know what to do with himself, so he walked into the bedroom and toe’d his shoes off. He sat on the edge of the bed and listened to her moving around, humming a song under her breath. It felt domestic and comfortable. And terrifying. Not for you, his brain told him. Never for you.

He could hear the sound of plates being sat out on the counter and the sizzle of meat in a skillet. Hamburger, he decided. He could smell it now. It smelled _amazing_. Unable to stand it any longer, he pushed himself up and stood in the doorway of the bedroom. Bucky curled his right arm around his stomach and leaned his shoulder against the doorframe while he watched her cut the watermelon into large chucks. She threw the hunks of fruit into a large blue bowl and turned her attention back to the burgers.

“Wanna eat outside?” she asked, looking over her shoulder at him.

Bucky jerked to attention, slightly embarrassed that she’d caught him staring. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Can you go wipe off the table? It gets gritty when it’s windy and the past couple days have been.”

“Yeah,” he replied. He walked towards her, and she tossed him a damp cloth. He managed to catch it right before it slapped against his chest. She threw him off. He was never that slow to react. Doing an about-face, he walked back across the living room and opened the door to the patio. He hadn’t been out there, only seen it from the safety of his bedroom. It wasn’t large, but comfortable and protected by an adobe wall low enough that it didn’t obstruct the view of the breathtaking landscape and the flat top mountain in the distance. The sun was setting behind him and the sky in front of him was taking on a deeper blue hue.

He wiped off the small table and the seats of the two chairs just before she came out to join him, holding the bowl of watermelon. “Come tell me what you want on your burger,” she told him. Not a question, a command, and, surprisingly, it didn’t bother him. He didn’t bristle at the matter-of-fact way she said it because she made it seem more like a request, even though it really wasn’t.

“Whatever you’re having is fine,” he said.

“What if I’m having orange slices and chocolate ice cream on mine?” she asked him while she stood in the doorway. The corners of her full lips were turned up in a smile.

“Are you?” he asked.

“Nah. But you don’t have any idea how weird I am. I could.”

“You’re unique,” he agreed, watching her from beneath his lashes, trying not to look at her mouth, but not quite succeeding.

“Oh, unique, is it? That’s more flattering than weird. Is this you almost-flirting with me?”

“I don’t know how to flirt,” he said, dropping his gaze firmly to the ground.

She laughed softly, and he could see her brows raised when he looked up at her again. “That’s not what the exposés we read in my World War class in college said.”

“Yeah, well, that’s not me. Hasn’t been for a long time.” He tried not to sound bitter and irritated because she was just trying to make a joke, make conversation, but it was hard. The past was hard. He didn’t care to remember it all that much. He’d been a stupid, foolhardy boy who’d taken a lot of shit for granted, and even though he knew that he’d been a dumb kid, it still hurt that he couldn’t have that life back in some way.

She picked up on his mood and dropped the topic. Instead, she said, “Come decorate your burger before it gets cold.”

Without a word, he followed her inside and watched as she selected a slice of cheese, a couple leaves of lettuce, and a slice of tomato from the cutting board by the stove top. She threw them haphazardly on the burger next to her before squirting a generous amount of ketchup on top. Too much ketchup. Burgers were supposed to be tasted, not drowned.

Bucky assumed the burger on the plate in front of him was his. It looked like she’d cooked it to perfection. Just the right amount of crust on the meat. And it smelled so fucking good that his mouth watered. He shouldn’t have snapped at her outside. She’d been nothing but sweet to him since he’d pulled up in the Durango. Nothing but helpful and carelessly welcoming. She’d been just what he needed without even trying. At least, he didn’t think she was trying because everything she did seemed so effortless and natural.

He left the cheese off, but carefully selected the thickest slice of tomato, a slice of onion, and a dark green lettuce leaf. “Do you have mayo?” he asked.

When he looked up, she was licking ketchup off her thumb and the way her lips were wrapped around it made him swallow hard. “Yep,” she said, probably oblivious to the direction of his depraved thoughts. She walked around him and opened the fridge. After searching the door for a moment, she sat a jar of Hellman’s on the counter beside his plate.

Before he could even reach for it and struggle to unscrew the lid with one hand, she’d retrieved a butter knife and opened the jar. She’d not said a word. Not a let-me-help-you-with-that. Not a sorry-you’ve-only-got-one-arm. Not a guess-you-can’t-even-open-a-jar-of-mayo-for-yourself. Not a fucking word. And that felt good. He didn’t want to hear it, even if she was thinking it. And surely she was thinking it, thinking about how pathetic and broken he was.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, dipping the knife in and spreading the mayo on the bun before placing the bread carefully on the burger.

Darcy was behind him, moving here and there. She reached around him, her body brushing against his back as she plopped a spoonful of potato salad next to the burger. “Shit, I hope you like potato salad,” she said. “I didn’t think. Just kinda threw it on there, huh?”

“Yeah, I like it. Who doesn’t, right?”

“Exactly,” she agreed with a smile. “It’s not homemade, though. Just the prepared stuff from the grocery store. Still good enough, though. Come on. Let’s go eat before it gets too dark. It feels so nice out there right now.”

She was right. It did feel nice. As they settled down at the little wrought iron table, he was suddenly so grateful he hadn’t gone to Saskatchewan by himself. And when he bit into the burger, he closed his eyes to keep from crying with relief. It was perfect. Juicy inside and crunchy outside with just the right balance of toppings and the tangy mayo. The weather was warm and the breeze felt good against his face. And she was good, too. She was easy. Easier even than Steve because she didn’t press or expect anything. And Steve had been the only one he could talk to lately.

Bucky watched her bite into her burger. A drop of ketchup dripped onto her plate. “You want some burger with that ketchup?” he asked.

“Shut your mouth, Barnes. I like it this way,” she said. He couldn’t look away as the tip of her tongue darted out to lick at a smudge of the condiment on the corner of her mouth.

“It’s a damn shame,” he teased. He felt light and free for a moment. All those swirling feelings of guilt and shame forgotten or suppressed. He knew they’d be back, but this was nice.

She pinched a piece of ripe watermelon between her index finger and thumb, biting into it and letting out a hum of pleasure. “I’ve been craving watermelon,” she said. “I dug through the crate at the store until I found the perfect one.”

He put his burger down and snagged a piece from the bowl. She was right; it was perfect. Perfectly ripe and delicious. It had been god knew how long since he’d had a great watermelon. “Used to eat this as a kid. My mom would buy me fruit instead of candy. Watermelon was always my favorite. I’d eat half of one myself if she didn’t catch me. I’d eat so much I’d get sick.”

Darcy laughed and took another piece from the bowl. “I used to make my mom buy me a head of cabbage when we went to the store. I’d sit in the car on the way home and peel off leaves and eat them raw.”

He shook his head. “Cabbage ain’t that good.”

“Blasphemy,” she said, picking the burger back up. After a long moment, she said, “Hey, I’m glad you’re here. It’s nice to have company.”

He nodded. “I’m… I’m glad to be here. I think.”

“You think?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Always is with you superheros,” she said.

“I’m not a superhero.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“I’m not,” he insisted.

She gave him a look that said she thought he was full of shit. “Yeah, okay.”

“Don’t sass me,” he told her.

Darcy laughed and took another big bite out of her burger. He dug into the potato salad and polished off the rest of his burger. When he’d finished, she nodded toward the door. “There’s another burger for you in the skillet.”

“Oh. Okay.” He stood up and took his plate inside. He wasn’t sure how to thank her when she made these little gestures of kindness. He wasn’t used to it and had no idea how to react. He made a second burger and joined her outside again. “Thanks for dinner,” he said softly, tucking in and grabbing a piece of watermelon. She’d put a dent into the cubes on her side of the bowl while he was gone.

“No problem. Only fair since you made breakfast.” She sat back in her chair and folded her hands over her stomach. “I’m so stuffed, but that watermelon is good.”

He popped another piece in his mouth. It was crisp and sweet. When he’d been a kid he’d relished the first bite that came from the center of the melon because it always tasted the best. All the pieces in the bowl tasted like that and he suddenly couldn’t get enough.

He ate piece after piece, feeling her gaze on him the entire time. When he looked up at her, she was watching him with a smile on her face. “It’s good,” he agreed, smiling back. It was probably strained and pathetic, but it was the best he could give her right now.

She nodded and turned her eyes out across the New Mexican desert. “I love this time of day. Right when the sun sets, but it’s still light out. The temperature drops a little, but it’s still comfortable.” She sighed.

He agreed with her. It was nice and he was glad to be here with her. Everything else seemed far away. No HYDRA. No impending global conflict with Russia. No Steve watching him with concerned eyes. No trying to make up for all the innocent people he’d killed. Just dinner on her patio while the sun disappeared. A warm breeze and sweet watermelon. He picked up his burger and devoured it in four bites. It tasted just as good as the first.

“I’ll clean up,” he told her when he’d finished.

Darcy waved her hand at him, dismissing the offer. “I’ll help. Come on, before it gets dark.”

He helped her carry their plates inside while she brought the empty bowl he’d cleared of watermelon. They worked silently in the kitchen. She rinsed the dishes and handed them to him to deposit in the dishwasher. He returned the mayo and ketchup to the fridge while she tossed the unused fixings in the trash can. Bucky was constantly aware of her body and where it was in relation to his. When she was close, he could smell that citrus scent that he’d experienced the first night–morning–he met her. It hadn’t even been that long ago. It felt like he’d known her much longer.

When she finished wiping down the counter, she turned to him. “I’m gonna hop in the hot tub. Wanna join me?”

“No,” he said immediately. The answer was out of his mouth before he even gave her question actual thought. His first reaction stood, though. “No, I’m okay,” Bucky added.

“Sure? It’s nice, especially after the temperature drops a little bit. It’s gonna be in the fifties tonight.”

“No, I… No.”

She shrugged. “Okay.” She walked into the living area and turned to look at him. “Help yourself to the bookshelf. The couple we’re renting this place from left them. There’s a series by Philip Pullman that will knock your socks off. I read it the first week I was here.”

He nodded and muttered, “Thanks.”

She disappeared into her bedroom and closed the door. He stood in the kitchen for almost five minutes staring at the door and wondering what she was doing in there. Wondering if maybe he should have said yes to her offer of the hot tub. He didn’t deserve to be that close to her, though. And he didn’t need to see her all wet and in less clothing than she was currently wearing. He wanted to, but he didn’t need to.

He walked over to the bookshelf and saw the books she had mentioned right at eye level. They were three small paperbacks with worn spines and dog-eared corners. He pulled out the first one before going into his bedroom and shutting the door. Part of him wanted to keep it open in hopes he could spend more time with her, but he knew it wouldn’t be appropriate. She was young, sweet, smart, and had her whole life in front of her. He didn’t need to get hung up on her, even if she was the only person in a long time that made him feel like he wasn’t worthless or a menace.

Bucky sat at the head of the bed, his back propped against the headboard and stared down at the book in his hand. The cover was a dark blue with what looked like the rough online of a cat or lion drawn over constellations. The name of the book–The Golden Compass–and the author's name were surrounded by a metallic gold. He’d read many books during his time in Bucharest because he’d had more free time that he knew what to do with. He’d worked the bare minimum in a bakery early each morning, making only enough to pay the bills. The rest of his time was spent worrying about being discovered, following Steve in the news, learning how to use what meager technology he could afford, and reading books.

He enjoyed Paul Auster and Dan Simmons especially. He’d read the Harry Potter novels twice. And he’d avoided anything with violence that seemed too real, too human. One night he’d tried to read a Clive Barker short story and ended up shaking and dry heaving in the bathroom. The descriptions of brutality had been done too well, had hit too close to home.

This book seemed safe. It actually looked like a children’s tale, maybe along the lines of Harry Potter. He hoped so. He needed some escape. As he sat there and stared at the cover, thinking about what the book might be about, he saw the light on the patio pop on. And then he heard the door open and her light footsteps. She must be barefoot.

Unable to temper his curiosity, he slipped off the bed and sidled up to the window, using a finger to push back the curtain just a fraction of an inch.

Her back was to him, and she was flipping open the cover on the hot tub. Bucky swallowed. She was in a bikini. He pushed back the curtain a little more, trying to see her better. Not knowing that he was watching her and thinking debauched thoughts, she turned around and twisted her hair into a bun on top of her head. The bikini looked more like lingerie from decades ago when he was young and still had a mind for chasing girls like her. Her tits were spilling up and out of the top; the swells of pillowy softness looked delicious. The bottoms were high-waisted, accentuating her figure and the way her waist flared out into her perfectly-portioned hips.

Bucky licked his lips and watched her fix a couple loose strands of hair, tucking them into the pile of dark hair on top of her head. She was waiting for the water to warm up. He could still join her. She’d bought him trunks like she’d wanted him to. She’d asked him to a few minutes ago. And then what? What’d he do if he went out there and shared that tiny square of water with her? Stare at her chest like he’d never seen such perfect tits–which he hadn’t–and think of all the wanton shit he wished he could do to her body? Because he wouldn’t do any of it. Mostly because she was young and sweet and kind and too good for him, but also because he’d tried that years ago when he was in Bucharest. He’d paid two different prostitutes to fuck him.

The first encounter had ended badly. He’d watched her impassively take off her clothes, and then she’d unzipped his pants and dropped to her knees to blow him. Except he couldn’t get it up, and he’d ended up asking her to leave, telling her it wasn’t her fault. She didn’t offer to give him a refund, but he hadn’t expected one. The second encounter was better–or worse, depending on your definition. He’d at least been able to get it up and pin her the bed so he could take what he thought he wanted. And it had felt great at first, like a warm, wet, tight fist around his cock. Better than his hand for sure. And then he’d looked down at her eyes and seen how detached she was, how far away and disinterested. He’d sped up then, chased down his orgasm and spilled himself in her. After she’d left, he’d thrown up in the toilet and showered in water so hot it made his skin red and sensitive. He hadn’t tried a third time, and he wasn’t going to try with Darcy either. He was repulsive and dirty, and she was perfectly beautiful in her own way.

Bucky let the curtain fall back into place and returned to bed. Instead of reading, he turned out the light and slipped under the covers. He could hear the sloshing of water outside as she stepped into the tub. He closed his eyes and imagined her in that little black and white bikini, so much of her pale skin on display. She’d be soft and smooth and feel so good. Probably better than the whores in Bucharest. Definitely better, he decided. But she was not for him. Never ever.

Sighing, he flipped the sheet off his body. He pushed the sweats down his hips and pulled himself out of the front slit of his boxers. He was already halfway hard just thinking about how she’d feel underneath him. With the prostitutes, he hadn’t put his mouth anywhere on them, but he’d put it all over Darcy. She’d probably taste sweet and tangy like all that citrus scent on her body. Bucky fisted his cock, his grip firm. She’d probably laugh under her breath before letting the head of his cock slip between those plump, red lips. He moved his hand up and down, spreading out the pre-cum leaking from his tip. She’d probably arch her back and let him tongue her nipples while he lined himself up and thrust into her pussy. He clenched his jaw and moved his hand faster, harder, tighter until it was almost painful. She’d probably be so fucking wet and snug and feel like heaven. He exhaled a shuddering breath as he came, his dick jerking in his hand and shooting all over his abdomen.

Bucky let go of himself and sat up to pull his shirt over his head. He used it to clean up the mess on his stomach. He was disgusting, lying in bed only a few yards away and fucking his hand while imagining fucking her. He wasn’t sure he could look her in the eye tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love hearing from everyone who is reading along. Thank you for the lovely comments that brighten my day. :-)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has suicidal thoughts in it. If you feel you cannot read it, but still want to continue on with the story, please skip it and contact me via e-mail (anogete527@yahoo.com) or on Tumbler ([anogete](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/anogete)). I'll send you a brief synopsis of chapter without the details so you can pick up with Chapter 5.

> “No doubt you’re gonna be thinking I’ll run out. That’s where you’re so mistaken.” - Anything (Martina Topley-Bird)

**[10:21am, April 28th, New Mexico]**

He’d avoided her the next morning by pretending to sleep in. When he finally caved to the pressure in his bladder and emerged to take a piss, she glanced up from her laptop at her usual spot sitting at the kitchen island.

“Hey. I left you a breakfast sandwich in the fridge,” she said. The little comment made him feel like an asshole. She’d made him breakfast, and he’d hidden from her. After getting dressed in a pair of athletic shorts and a T-shirt, he heated the sandwich up and took it outside to devour it on the porch overlooking the barn and the driveway. She didn’t follow him, and he felt relief and guilt. He shouldn’t punish her because he couldn’t keep his thoughts out of the gutter. It wasn’t her fault that she was gorgeous and stirring up feelings he wanted to keep buried deep down. Feelings that didn’t fit in his life any longer. Feelings that would just get him in trouble or get her hurt.

He walked down the long dirt driveway until he hit the single lane paved road that was crumbling at the edges. Then he walked back up the driveway and settled down on the wooden bench outside the barn. The sun was directly above, beating down on his knees while the barn and overhang above him shaded the rest of this body. He sat there for hours. She came out onto the porch as the sun was on it’s final descent toward the horizon behind him. Bucky watched her as she looked up to where he was sitting, her hands on her hips and her head tilted. He could tell she was giving him a wordless command to come inside and eat. He didn’t obey and remained right where he was. Yesterday he’d let himself go too far and enjoy her company too much. That wasn’t a part of his life any longer.

Finally, she went back inside and shut the door. There was that odd mixture of relief and guilt. And disappointment this time, too. Bucky closed his eyes and inhaled deeply before blowing the air out of his lungs between parted lips. Slow and steady. Meditative. He’d actually tried meditating shortly after escaping from HYDRA. It hadn’t worked very well for him, but sometimes a few deep breaths would help clear his head, calm him down.

He wondered what she was doing in there. Cooking dinner, maybe? He hoped she wasn’t thinking about him. He didn’t deserve it.

The sun was gone and the sky was getting darker. And he needed to go inside unless he planned on sleeping on the bench. The thought had occurred to him, but it seemed a little silly. And what if it worried her? He didn’t want to worry her. So, he pushed himself up and took his time walking down the gentle slope to the house.

She was nowhere to be found when he walked through the door, and then he realized she was in the shower. The patter of water against her skin was all he could hear now. He thought of her just a few feet away, only a wall between them, naked and wet, running her hands over her body.

Fuck.

He needed to pump his brakes because this shit wasn’t right. Couldn’t happen. He grabbed the remote and turned on the television. The black screen flickered on and the nightly news came out of the speakers, drowning out the sound of the water hitting her curvy little body.

“The President and British Prime Minister will be traveling to an undisclosed location where several heads of state are meeting to discuss the conflict between Russia and Wakanda. Richard Hall has more on this unprecedented meeting of nations.”

Bucky’s attention focused on the picture on the screen. A wiry man in glasses and a bulletproof vest stood on top of concrete and metal rubble. “Thank you, Lisa. I'm standing here on the former site of the renown Wakandan medical center that has, over the past four days, been reduced to nothing. Secretary of State Gladner visited the site earlier today with a delegation. Our sources tell us the President has not only been in contact with Gladner and other top advisors today, but also with intelligence officials, including those associated with the Avengers Initiative. The man wanted for questioning by the Russian government, James Buchanan Barnes, is a former member of Captain America’s Howling Commandos.”

Bucky felt his stomach drop and his throat close up. He tried to pull in a breath, but something was blocking his airway. Guilt. The world had dropped away and all he heard or saw was the man on the screen.

“Captain America denies knowledge of Barnes’ whereabouts and, along with high-ranking agents in U.S. and British intelligence, has cast doubt on Russia’s accusations. CIA director Ellis and British intelligence officials have been unable to confirm the authenticity of the recordings provided by the Russian government, stopping just short of calling them fraudulent. The emergency summit will be held tomorrow at an undisclosed location. For now there is a cease fire in Wakanda, but it's tenuous and tensions are high. Back to you, Lisa.”

The news flipped back over to a blonde woman at the anchor desk. “We have former military analyst Michael Wilcox joining us by phone. Thank you for speaking with us this evening, Michael.”

A disembodied voice said, “My pleasure, Lisa.”

“Michael, has there been any change on China’s stance? Earlier today it sounded like they were firmly behind Russia and unlikely to attend the summit.”

“That's correct, Lisa. Sides are being picked and lines drawn quickly in this conflict. Considering China’s trade relationship with Russia and their notoriously competitive rivalry with technology coming out of Wakanda it isn't surprising they won't be attending the summit.”

“Do you think the U.S. will take military action against Russia if the audio of King T’Challa and the video footage of the assassination of the Russian diplomat by Barnes has been fabricated?”

“Lisa, I don't think we have a choice. My sources inside the CIA…”

Bucky grabbed the remote and flipped the power off. His body felt like it was on fire, but his head was ice cold. He regretted turning on the television and pulling himself out of this daydream he'd been wrapped up in. A daydream with a pretty girl who smiled at him like he wasn't an international killer who was missing an arm. A daydream of a quiet life where he could have burgers and watermelon on the patio while the sky darkened to a dusky blue.

Reality felt like a weight on his chest. The country was on the cusp of another World War, Steve was out there trying to defend his name still, and HYDRA was never going to let it end. Not until he was doing their dirty work or six feet under. Well, he knew what his choice was. He'd rather put a bullet in his head that be a pawn in their game again. Instigating another war would only make them stronger. If the U.S. government could hand over his body, then maybe this could all blow over.

The gun was in the nightstand. He felt oddly calm after he'd made the split second decision. There was a strange and comforting certainty in knowing what needed to happen. If his long-delayed death could avoid what was sure to be a disaster, then he didn’t see why it should even be a question. It wasn’t like he had anything to live for anyway. Life had been constant anxiety and fear that they would recapture him and turn him into a weapon again.

Steve would be upset, but he’d understand after some time had passed. He of all people should be able to empathize over the desire to end a too-long life that was filled with more than enough bullshit and not enough good. He’d hate Bucky for a bit, but he’d get over it. Steve could remember the good times before HYDRA wrecked everything.

Bucky walked into the bedroom and pulled the heavy gun from the nightstand. His eyes lingered on Steve’s note. It threatened him, told him not to use the gun unless there was no other choice. The way he saw it, there wasn’t another choice. He was being used as a pawn in a bigger game and that had been the story of his fucking life for over eighty years–even before he’d been turned into HYDRA’s assassin.

Shutting the drawer to hide the note, he looked down at the deadly weapon in his hand. He sat it carefully on the foot of the bed and traced the beautiful lines with his gaze. Guns were reliable, something he could understand. Comforting, even. The stillness in his mind felt odd, almost wrong, because his legs were weak. He felt his knees buckle and reached his hand out to catch himself on the bed. His palm landed next to the gun as he lowered himself to kneel on the floor. Why was his hand trembling? This was what he wanted, what needed to happen. It wasn’t even really a choice. HYDRA would gain power and momentum if a war was allowed to happen. Or, at the very least, the allies would be damaged and made susceptible by the conflict. His death might not stop it, but if the U.S. government could hand his body over to Russia, then his death would delay it. And even if it didn’t change a damn thing, he could rest easy knowing that he hadn’t allowed himself to be used yet again.

The safety wasn’t flipped on the gun. It had a bullet in the chamber and was ready to go.His breathing was loud, rasping. His hand was still shaking when he lifted it to push his hair back from his face. Why was he shaking? His mind was so clear, so ready for this. It had been a long time coming. Sitting back on his heels, he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply once. Another slow, deliberate inhale. And then a third. His trigger finger twitched. He couldn’t see the gun, but he could feel its presence. Waiting for him to still the trembling of his hand and the racing of his heart so he could bring the tip of the barrel up to his temple. By then all it would take was a squeeze of his index finger and it could be over. He would have finally taken charge of his life and done something they couldn’t undo or pervert.

Blindly, Bucky reached out to lay his hand on the cold metal of the weapon. Instead he found warm, smooth skin. What?

His eyes flew open, and he took in a pair of purple shorts with neon orange polka dots, encasing a pair of shapely legs. Lifting his gaze upward, he saw a matching orange shirt stretched tight over the best pair of tits he’d seen since… since last night when he'd seen her in a bikini top. _Her_. He’d forgotten that she’d been in the house–in the shower. He’d been too focused on ending his fucking life.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice sounding far away. It was a stupid question, but he didn’t know what else to say. Her gaze was gentle when he finally got the nerve to meet it.

Darcy gave him a small smile that looked more sad than anything else. “I saw a cute guy kneeling on the floor and thought, Darcy, that’s where you wanna be. All about being worshipped by the hottest piece of ass in New Mexico.”

Bucky didn’t know what he’d been expecting from her, but it wasn’t that. That feeling seemed to be a recurring theme with her. She was too kind to point out the fact that she’d caught him just a few seconds from blowing his brains out. He felt tears well up in his eyes, half from shame and half from frustration over being stopped for a second time after he’d worked up the courage to do what needed to be done. He gave a harsh laugh at her comment about him.

Fuck, he was crying. He could feel the tears drying in tracks down his cheeks. If she didn’t think he was a loser before, then she definitely did now. “You’re sitting on my gun,” he whispered, lifting his gaze to her face instead of staring resolutely at her chest.

“Oh?” she raised her brows. “That explains a lot. I was going to ask why you didn’t complain about the uncomfortable bed.” When he didn’t say anything, she tilted her head. “What happened to you just now?”

“The news.”

“Ah, you turned on the TV.”

“You know I’m the reason for all this, right?” he asked. It was in that moment that he realized his hand was still on her left thigh, his fingers curved around it. His thumb was so close to the V at the apex of her legs. He jerked his hand away like she’d burned him.

“Hey, don’t pull that shit with me, buddy. I was a political science major back in the olden days before my life got hijacked by a flighty astrophysicist–all of them are flighty, by the way–and a bunch of super heroes. Russia did not send their military off to Wakanda to kidnap you from a cryo tube. It’s more complicated than that.” She shook her head. “I hate when people try to make global conflicts out to be something so simple. There’s political alliances, trade agreements and embargos, balances of power, world leaders making deals with each other for assumed mutual benefit, strategic demonstrations of power to make a point to other countries, all that shit.”

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Who was she? She cooked for him and flirted with him, and then she treated him like he was a silly boy who didn’t know how complicated this whole thing was. And he felt like a silly boy because he didn’t have a damn thing to say.

She lifted up a hand and pushed his hair back from his face. He wanted to lean into her touch, but he was too proud to beg for more. “Cap and company said that HYDRA had operatives pulling strings in the Russian government. Right now the alliance between the western countries is where most of the power is concentrated. HYDRA can’t get a foothold, especially after infiltrating SHIELD blew up in their faces a few years back. So, what’s in their best interest? Drumming up a fake-ass conflict, using Russia as their patsy and dividing up the countries. Yeah, we’ll win, but we’ll be weaker for it. So will everyone else. Unless someone drops an atomic bomb and then we’re all fucked.”

“Why bring me into it, then? If this isn’t about me? They’re looking for me. And if they find out I’m here...”

She looked down at him, her face serious. “I didn’t say you didn’t factor. Maybe they thought they could kill two birds with one stone. Start the conflict to weaken the military of all the countries involved in the conflict _and_ get their super assassin back into the fold. The best lies are ones that are rooted in truth. They found out you were in Wakanda and it wasn’t that much of a leap to use that to their advantage.”

She was probably right. She was probably smarter than him. She was certainly a better person than him. “I just want it to end,” he said, dropping his gaze because he couldn’t look her in the eye after making the shameful admission. “This isn’t any kind of life.”

Darcy gave him that sad, strained smile again. He could see wetness collecting on the waterline of her lower eyelid. Was she tearing up for him? Upset for him? He didn’t deserve any of that. “I’m sorry you feel that way. Your buddy Steve told me you were unhappy and he was worried you might hurt yourself, but I just thought he was too far up your ass. I… I didn’t take him seriously. I’m sorry for that.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said. He saw a tear roll down her flawless cheek and hated himself for playing a part in causing her to feel that way. His chest was so fucking tight, like he had a vice clamped down on it and someone was twisting the handle. Unconsciously, he’d lifted his hand to rub the back of his neck, trying to release the tension he was holding there.

“I’m not getting up until you can tell me that you’re not going to hurt yourself.”

“I’m so fucking tired, doll. Please just… I’ll go outside. Give me the gun and I’ll go outside.”

She took his face in her hands. Hands that were trembling. “Look at me,” she demanded.

He felt like a caged animal, terrified and trapped, waiting for the next blow. He looked at the floor between his knees, unable to face her.

“Look at me,” she repeated.

Finally, he jerked his eyes up to her shirt. And then he managed to lift them to her face. Her eyes were red-rimmed and wide. “Don’t you cry for me,” he whispered.

“I’ll cry for you if I fucking want to,” she snapped back. “You are not a piece shit, James Barnes. And you are not taking yourself outside to be put down like a fucking dog. I’ll break your only arm before I’ll let you do that.”

He laughed weakly through the tears rolling down his cheeks. She used her thumbs to wipe them away. Bucky lifted his right hand to grasp her wrist. “You couldn’t if you tried,” he said, attempting to smile. All that he could manage was a grimace.

“Don’t test me. I’m a crazy bitch.”

“Why do you even care?”

She wiped away another tear, her hands felt comforting as they gently cupped the line of his jaw. “Because I like you.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I make friends fast. Just like Thor.” Her thumb rubbed across his cheek again. “You gonna be okay? You don’t have to be good, but I want you to be okay.”

Her gentle question twisted something in his chest, making his breath catch and his throat close up. He didn’t respond because he couldn’t. She’d broken something inside of him and he was overwhelmed, pathetic sobs tumbling from his lips so fast he couldn’t stop them, couldn’t even remember them starting. All he knew was that her hand was on the back of his head, urging him closer. And she felt so fucking good that he gave in and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her to the edge of the mattress as he pressed his face into her stomach. Citrus and soap and woman. The scent was so comforting that he wished he never had to move. He could just stay there with his face buried in her soft body while her fingers played with his hair.

“Shh, it’s okay. You’ll be okay. I’ve got you.” He could hear her soft voice murmuring reassuring phrases over and over into the crown of his head. Her short nails lightly glided over his scalp, feeling so good he shivered under her light touch.

It felt freeing to let go and fall apart. If someone had asked him minutes ago, he would have denied it, but it felt nice to have someone catch him as he shattered. Even when he’d left Steve by the river and ran away to hide in Bucharest, he hadn’t let himself cry. He’d felt so disgusted and hopeless that he’d vomited all over the floor of a squat house in Budapest. He’d been reckless with himself, almost walking in front of a bus on his way through Prague. He’d thought so many times about how a gun would feel pressed firmly to his temple, but he’d never let himself break apart like this.

And it felt so fucking _good_ to let go. She was like heaven, all yielding and gentle and forgiving. He knew in the light of day he’d regret letting himself do this in front of her, but his need in the moment eclipsed that fear of rejection, that anxiety over her looking at him with knowing eyes full of pity. Poor Bucky Barnes couldn’t handle life.

As his sobs subsided, she slowed the movement of her fingertips in his hair, drawing circles over his scalp. “It’ll be okay,” she said. He could feel her lips brush over his hair.

“You don’t know that,” he whispered into the spot just below her breasts.

“Sure I do. I know everything.”

He chuckled softly, suddenly aware of the way her tits were pressed against his forehead. She wasn’t wearing a bra. He was a fucking lecher. A disgusting, dirty old man. She was offering comfort, and he was all too aware that if he moved his lips up a few inches he could have a mouthful of her breast, maybe even taste her nipple through the T-shirt.

No. It was inappropriate and she deserved better.

“At first this gun felt like a boner and I was kinda into it, but now it just feels like a hunk of metal. So, I’m hoping you can promise me that you’re gonna be okay,” she said.

He pulled back and looked up at her, letting his hand linger on his waist. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m… I’ll be okay.” Her face was wet with her own tears and it made his heart ache. He didn’t deserve her tears. “Thank you, doll. I… I don’t know…”

“No problemo,” she told him when he didn’t know how to finish the thought, didn’t know how to say that she’d just saved his life. Darcy used her hands to dry his face. “You wanna sleep or eat?”

“Sleep.”

“Want me to tuck you in?”

“Yes.” He didn’t know what she meant by that, but he’d take whatever it was. He pushed himself to his feet and stood in front of her.

She looked up and smiled at him. “Where are your pajamas?”

“I, uh, sleep in my underwear.”

“Ugh, I should get a medal from all womankind for stopping you from committing such an atrocity.”

He stepped back so she could stand up. “What?” Bucky asked dumbly.

“You’re too hot to blow a hole in your head. All us ladies would never get over it.”

Bucky shook his head at her, again at a loss for words to respond to her out-of-left-field comments. He pushed his shorts down and pulled the T-shirt over his head. He was too numb—too dog-tired—to think about how closely she was watching him. Darcy flipped the covers back so he could slip into the bed. Tenderly, she pulled the blanket up and tucked it around his shoulders. “Tell me you’re gonna be okay again,” she whispered as she bent over him. Her lips were so close to his. Bucky hoped tucking him in meant he got a kiss. He hadn’t kissed a dame in decades.

“I’m gonna be okay,” he whispered back.

The corners of her mouth lifted up in a soft smile. “Sleep tight, don’t let the bedbugs bite,” she replied before pressing her lips to the center of his forehead. Bucky closed his eyes and tried to memorize the way she felt, sear the moment and her touch into his memory. A light for one of the darker days ahead.

When he opened his eyes the room was in shadows and she was gone. His bedroom door was open, though. He looked to the foot of the bed where the gun had been. It was gone. She must have taken it with her. The lack of it made him panic for a moment. It had been a bit of a security blanket since he’d arrived. It had been his plan B if he was discovered. Now if they came for him in the night, he wouldn’t have the failsafe in the nightstand. He was too exhausted to get up and argue with her about it. She’d think he wanted to use it to kill himself. She’d think he’d lied to her. He hadn’t. He was okay. For now. But he needed a contingency plan. Tomorrow. He’d get it back tomorrow.


	5. Chapter 5

> “Tell me is this real. Everything I feel. Tell me is this real.” - Toy Automatic (The Afghan Whigs)

**[5:44am, April 29th, New Mexico]**

It was still dark outside when he woke. For a blessed moment, he didn’t remember what had transpired the previous evening. And then, like a crushing weight, it all came back to him. He didn’t even want to show his face to her because he knew, at best, she pitied him and, at worst, was disgusted and fearful of him. It hurt his pride that she knew how weak he was.

Birds were chirping so sunrise wasn’t too far away. He should probably stay in this bed and close his eyes, pretend to sleep. Maybe she’d shut the door and leave him be if he didn’t make it known he was conscious. All those plans went out the window when he heard her bare feet on the hardwood floor and the shift of her clothes next to his bed.

“Bucky?”

He couldn’t _not_ answer her. Not after everything she’d given him. “Yeah?”

“Did I wake you?”

“No.”

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other and back again. “You want some company or you want me to leave you alone?”

Good question. He wanted both. He wanted her soothing, whisper-soft voice telling him that everything was okay, and he also wanted her to forget she’d ever met him. “I could make you breakfast,” he offered. It was a meager way to pay back someone who’d saved his life, but it was all he had to give at the moment.

She laughed softly under her breath. When the mattress beneath him shifted, he opened his eyes. He was flat on his back, staring at the ceiling. He could see her movements out of the corner of his eye as she crawled into his bed and slipped her legs beneath the covers. Facing him, she lied down on her side and adjusted the pillow beneath her head. When he didn’t acknowledge her, she shifted closer by a fraction of an inch. “You still okay?” she whispered in the dark.

Bucky swallowed and closed his eyes again. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

“Good,” she replied. “I was thinking we could be lazy this morning.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Hang out in your bed.”

Fuck, was she reading pages out of his fantasies? “What are we gonna do in my bed?”

She laughed softly again. “Talk. Or not. Don’t get your hopes up, though; I don’t put out on the first date.”

Obviously, she was joking. Because they’d never been on a date. He could only be so lucky to get a dame like her to spend time with him. She deserved a man with a good life instead of a burden to be babysat. “Good,” he told her in a dry voice. “Because I've never gone all the way. You dames are intimidating.”

Darcy giggled like his pathetic joke delighted her. “Sense of humor is intact, I see.”

“Barely,” he agreed.

She snuggled into the pillow and sighed. She sounded content to be there with him and he didn’t know why. “How did you sleep?”

“I slept. Woke up a few minutes before you hijacked my bed for a slumber party.”

“Oh man, I haven't had a proper slumber party in a long time. What do you wanna talk about? Boys? Makeup? Celebrity crushes?”

“You,” he answered simply and honestly.

She shifted and hugged the pillow against her face. “Me?”

“You,” he repeated and turned to lie on his side, facing her. There was a scant foot of space between their faces.

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything. You know everything about me, and I know next to nothing about you.”

“I don't know everything about you,” she protested.

“You read my file. That's everything.”

“Your file didn’t tell me your favorite fruit is watermelon.”

He smiled. “Yeah, but you know that already.”

“Ah, point taken. Well,” she said propping her head up on her hand, “let's play a game. I'll answer one of your questions if you answer one of mine.”

“You know it all,” he insisted.

“I don’t remember it all.” She pushed her hair back away from her face and settled her cheek against the pillow again. “Look, three sexy-ass motherfuckers bust up in my middle-of-nowhere rental in the wee hours of the morning, shove an inch-thick file in my face, and tell me they need me to let a fourth sexier-ass motherfucker crash in my second bedroom. A girl could get a little flustered and forget shit. I’m only human, unlike you guys.”

Damn, she had a mouth on her. And he hadn't missed the compliment even if she'd probably only done it to make him feel better. “Somehow I doubt you missed much. You like to make people underestimate you, don't you?” he asked.

“That your first question?”

He nodded.

“I might let that happen now and then. You can get away with a ton of shit if people think you’re silly and don't understand.” He could see the curve of her lips in the weak pre-dawn light from the window behind him. “When and where and who was your first kiss?”

“That sounds like three questions,” he said, “but I guess I can answer. I was seven and I kissed Beverly Falgiani under the table after class in first grade.”

Darcy laughed softly. “Early bloomer.”

“Something like that,” he agreed. “Are you close with your family?”

“Not really.” When he opened his mouth to protest her vague answer she cut him off. “Okay, okay. My dad died eight years ago. My mom remarried a year later. She adopted her second husband's two kids and they're a happy family.” She paused and added softly, “But I still miss my dad. So, I'm the black sheep that ran off to travel the country for college credits. Soooo, no. Not real close. I see them at Christmas. We love each other, but… yeah, not close.” Darcy chewed on her lower lip. “If you could live in a beautiful house with an ugly view or an ugly house with a beautiful view, which would you choose?”

“Is this a trick question?”

“No. But there is a correct answer.

He closed his eyes and listened to her steady breathing as he thought the question over. “Beautiful house with an ugly view.”

He watched her lips curl up in a smile. “Interesting.”

“Did I pass?”

“Most people say ugly house with beautiful view. Why'd you say beautiful house?”

“Why just look at beauty if you can actually live it? Did I pick wrong?”

“No, you picked right.”

“You sure philosophy wasn't your major?”

“Nope, just political science,” she said. “What's your favorite childhood memory?”

“It's my turn,” he protested.

She shook her head. “You asked me about my major.”

“That wasn't a real question, but I'll let you slide.” Bucky sighed and closed his eyes again. Favorite childhood memory. She was asking questions no one but he could answer. “We didn't have much, but my mom bought me a brand new bike for my tenth birthday. I took it for a spin around the block after the party. I'd eaten two big slices of homemade chocolate cake and my stomach was full. The streetlights were on and the sky was clear. The weather was warm and I remember pedaling so fast that I thought I could fly. I felt… free. Alive.”

God, he'd never told anyone that. It seemed too insignificant and stupid.

“That's beautiful,” she whispered.

“You got a guy?” he asked. And right after it left his mouth he wanted to take it back. It had sounded like he was asking for himself and he wasn’t.

She smiled and said exactly what he was thinking. “You asking for yourself?”

“You didn’t answer my question so I can’t answer yours.”

She laughed this time. “Okay,” she said. “I don’t. You asking for yourself?”

“No. What happened with your last guy?”

Darcy shifted closer by a fraction of an inch. “A couple months ago Jane asked me if I’d be interested in spending a few weeks out here monitoring equipment once she got the funding lined up. I needed the money, so I told her yes. And then I realized I had a boyfriend who might have an opinion. I decided if I didn’t even remember to ask him or tell him what I was thinking about doing that we probably shouldn’t be together.”

“He didn’t try to keep you?”

“Nope. Not really. Guess it wasn’t true love or anything. Also, you got two questions in a row, so I get two.”

“Yeah, okay,” he said, unable to suppress the little smile tugging at his lips.

“What’s your biggest regret?”

“Doll, you don’t even want to open that can of worms.”

“Well, my rules say you can’t regret something that you don’t have a choice on. “

“I regret not killing myself after I escaped from HYDRA a few years back.”

She stared back at him. He knew she couldn’t see much of his face with the way the shadows fell, but her face was illuminated by the light from the window at his back. He could see how much his answer hurt her.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, it’s… if that’s your answer you should be allowed to say it. I’m just sad that you believe you’d be better off dead.”

“I shoulda died a long time ago.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t,” she said, shifting under the covers, her foot grazing against his leg. On purpose or by accident, he wasn’t sure which.

“You got another question for me?”

“What’s your favorite dessert?”

“Cherry pie,” he said, the answer coming easily to him. “Why did you stop me?”

“Stop you?”

“Last night,” he clarified.

“Oh.” Darcy sighed. “Because I like you, and I didn’t want you to do something that couldn’t be taken back. What if you have this amazing life in front of you and you miss out on all of it?”

“Nothing in front of me but more of the same.”

“You don’t know that. A week ago did you think you’d be right here lying in bed with me while we have a slumber party?”

She was right. A week ago he hadn’t had any thoughts at all He’d been frozen in Wakanda. As recently as yesterday morning he’d had no idea he’d be here with her in his bed. Life could be unpredictable. Maybe there would be good things ahead. Doubtful, but maybe. “I’ll never have a normal life.”

Darcy shrugged. “So? Who wants a normal life?”

“I do.”

She smiled. “You can have a good life–a great life–without the white picket fence, the job in sales, and two point five kids.”

Bucky dropped his gaze to the bed between them because the moment was too intimate, too close. He'd never even confessed to himself that he wanted a normal life and had all along. Even that stupid, foolhardy kid he'd been when he'd enlisted had wanted to eventually have the wife and the kids and the house and the block parties and the vacations at the shore. The whole deal. After he’d had some fun, of course. And now it was too late and things had gone so far astray there was no getting back to anywhere near normal.

And if he couldn't have that then he wondered what it would be like to wake up every morning like this. With her. What it would be like if he could reach out his arm and pull her closer while she giggled and put her hands on his chest. And it shook him when he realized it didn't feel like the consolation prize to that normal life he'd always wanted. It felt like the grand prize. A woman who knew him and cared about him. Accepted him.

He lifted his hand and rubbed his eyes. She was not his girl and never would be. She was just someone who was trying to help a broken man not blow his fucking brains out. She was, at best, a friend, and he'd be honored and privileged to call her that.

“I forgot whose turn it is,” he admitted.

“Mine,” she said. “What do you want out of life?”

Bucky adjusted his pillow and resettled his head on it. He had all her attention and it made him nervous. She was intense. Not intense like Steve was–all worried and hovering and anxious to make things right. She actually looked at him like she cared about what his answer was, and he didn’t have a good one to give her. “I don’t know. Freedom to do what I want, I guess.”

“That’s a given,” she replied. Darcy shifted and her foot brushed against his leg again. His fingers twitched. What if he could just pull her closer and breath her in? She continued by saying, “Let’s assume you have freedom. Because everyone should, and you will when all this blows over.”

“I’ll never be free.”

“Yes, you will. I mean, not total freedom–none of us have that–but freedom to live your life the way you want within legal confines and shit. What then? What would you want?”

“What anyone wants, I guess.”

“What’s that?”

“To be happy,” he replied, unable to look her in the eye. “To find someone to love and to enjoy life.”

She smiled. “That’s sweet, Barnes. Who woulda thought you’d be such a softy.”

“Don’t tell anyone and ruin my reputation,” he told her, hiding his grin by turning his face slightly into his pillow.

“No vengeance against those HYDRA fucknuts that used you? No sticking it to the government and getting a big paycheck for all those years you were a prisoner of war? No three-ways with sexy models?”

Bucky chuckled. “No, none of that. Just… normal stuff.”

She sighed and rolled onto her back. The sun was out and the birds were chirping loudly outside. “Okay,” she said. “I gotta get out of this bed before you make my ovaries explode.”

“What?” he asked, sitting up.

“Oh, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, cover yourself up. I can’t deal with you being all relationship-material _and_ drop dead gorgeous.”

Bucky looked down to see the sheet pooled around his waist and his chest bare. “Uh, sorry?”

She sat up and swung her legs out of the bed. “No, you’re not,” she said. “Come help me check on my little satellite dudes, and then I’ll fix you breakfast.”

Relationship material. Obviously that was a joke, because he was anything but that. He got out of bed and pulled open a dresser drawer to find some clothes. She was strange, but he liked her. She had a way about her that put him at ease and made him forget about the reality outside of her little house.

He beat her outside and stood on the porch, breathing in the cool early morning air. He needed to tell her that she had to return the gun. She'd be upset with him so he was putting it off.

“Come on, hot stuff,” she said, letting the door slam closed behind her.

The instruments in the field were all fine. She did a small recalibration on one, but that was the extent of her work. They were back in the house by seven-thirty. Bucky sat at the island and watched her work with efficient movements. What was wrong with men? She should have a line of them out there, waiting around to marry her.

“Cheddar or American cheese?” she asked, looking over her shoulder at him. He diverted his gaze, paranoid that she could read his thoughts all over his face.

“Chef’s choice,” he replied. She winked and turned back to the fridge.

“Darcy, you know I need the gun back, right?” he asked.

She froze, her back to him as she stood in front of the open fridge. “No.” Her response was flat and sounded final.

“It’s not a question. If my location is compromised, I need the gun.” He hated this. Hated having to argue with her after spending the morning talking in his bed. He just wanted to let her have whatever she wanted. She deserved that much.

“We’ll see them coming and run.”

She was so naive. Smart, but clueless to how ruthless and cunning people could be. “You won’t see them coming, especially if you’re asleep. And where are we going to run when they have your car blocked in with vehicles? When they have a helicopter above us with a search light? None of that is beyond their ability.”

“Well, you’re not taking out all these carloads of guys with a single gun,” she said, turning around with a pack of shredded cheddar cheese in her hand.

“No, I’m not.” So naive and so sweet. He was going to hurt her, but there was no way around it.

Bucky saw the moment that comprehension dawned on her face. When she connected those dots and realized what the gun was really for. “Absolutely not,” she said, her face flushing and her eyes going wide. “No fucking way are you using that thing to shoot yourself.”

“If they find me, then I’ll have to.”

“They won’t kill you, right? They’ll capture you. And then all the Avengers can come rescue you.” Her fingers were curled tight around the bag of cheese. She pushed the fridge shut with her hip and looked up at him. “Right?”

“No,” he said. “It’s too dangerous to let them have me. I could kill innocent people between now and any rescue attempt. And rescuing me would be dangerous. I’d be turned on them. It’s unlikely they could capture me without someone dying–me or one of them.”

“Bucky, there’s got to be another way. I’m not giving you that gun back. Not after last night.” His heart was breaking from the look on her face. She cared. She fucking _cared_ about him. She’d known him for a few days and the idea that he’d have to take himself out of the equation to save others was hurting her.

“I’ll give you my word I won’t use it unless I have to.”

She frowned. “And what does that mean? What would be the conditions of you having to?”

“I’ve been compromised, there is no likely escape route, and I’m moments from being captured by HYDRA,” he said in a soft voice. Steve had asked him for the same promise before, but Bucky hadn’t been able to make it then. He could make it now. For her. Which was fucked up because he knew Steve better; they’d been friends for so long.

She turned back to the stove and opened the bag of cheese. Silently, she finished making their omelets. Her shoulders and neck were tense; he could tell by her jerky movements and stiff back. Bucky opened his mouth to say something, but he wasn’t sure what.

Finally, she turned around with a plate in each hand. She sat his down in front of him and Bucky looked at the massive omelet that had to have been made with at least six eggs. Gooey cheese and diced tomatoes were spilling out the edges. “Darcy,” he said when she slipped onto the stool next to him.

“I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” she said, her mouth a thin line of worry and her eyes wide.

He shifted, trying to will away the ache in his chest. “I appreciate that, doll, but this isn’t a normal situation where I can promise that won’t happen. If I could, then I would.”

“What are the chances they’ll find you? I mean, I’m no one, right? Why would they think you’re here with me?”

He nodded. “You’re right. There’s nothing that ties us together. But you know Thor. And Thor knows Steve. And Steve knows me.”

“These guys can’t be that good.”

“They’re _very_ good at their jobs. It’s not likely they’ll find me, but it’s possible. And if it’s possible, I need a plan. I need you to understand that I can’t go back. If it’s that or death, then it has to be death.”

“Bucky...” she started to say, but he cut her off.

“No. That’s my choice. I’ll die before I’ll go back. What they put me through...” His voice broke and he swallowed the emotion building up in his throat. She brought this shit out of him, and he didn’t know whether he should thank her or run from her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, looking down at her plate and poking her omelet with the tines of her fork.

He wanted to reach out his hand and place it over hers, but that would be crossing a line that he knew shouldn’t be crossed. Bucky closed his eyes and remembered the way she felt when he’d been on his knees before her, his face pressed into her stomach. The way her fingers felt in his hair. The way her lips on his forehead felt. He craved it. “Don’t apologize, doll. I just need you to understand that it could get real bad for me, and I need the opportunity to stop it. I need a choice.”

She bobbed her head in a series of small nods. “I understand. I don’t like it, but I understand.” Darcy looked up at him and there were the beginnings of tears collecting on her lower lids. God, she made him feel amazing and like a piece of shit at the same time. “You’ve gotta promise me that it would be only if there’s no other choice. That’s it’s them or...”

She couldn’t finish the thought. He did it for her. “Them or death. I promise. Only if I have to. Not like last night.”

Darcy nodded once, and carefully cut into her omelet. She picked at it for a minute, only eating a small piece. He’d lost his appetite, too, but maybe for a different reason. She didn’t like that he wanted the gun back and what that might mean. He didn’t like that he was deconstructing what she believed about the world. For her there was always a second chance, a way to make it better, but sometimes there just wasn’t. Sometimes the best choice was to end it.

“Let’s go on a walk after we eat,” he said.

“What?” she asked, looking up at him.

“I want to show you something.”

She gave him a small smile and even the slight lift of her mouth lit her face up. God, she really was beautiful. What was he doing here? He was too deep and something was bound to fuck it all up. It was just a matter of time before this little world she’d constructed around him would be destroyed by HYDRA or by reality in general.

After they’d each eaten most of their breakfast in silence, he walked out onto the porch and looked down the narrow driveway.

“Where are we going?” she asked, stepping up behind him.

Bucky pointed at the driveway. “All vehicles would have to come from that direction,” he told her, pointing down the single lane dirt road that led up to the house. “But they’ll have other operatives on foot coming at the house from the road that runs in front.”

“Oh, god, Bucky. Are you serious?” she said, putting her hands on her hips.

“I want you to have a fighting chance of getting out of here. If they come, then it’ll be at night. You’ll need to get out of the house immediately. You can’t stay in there.” He looked down at her upturned face. She was giving him attitude with that look in her eye that said he was a paranoid asshole. It made him want to grab her shoulders and shake her. Except he couldn’t. He only had one arm. Wasn’t really the same with one arm.

“Fine, okay,” Darcy said. “I get out of the house.”

“Out a bedroom window. Your bedroom has one, right? It opens on the other side of the house?”

“Yeah, the driveway side.”

“Go out the window, stay close to the ground. Come around the other side, around the patio. You’ll be there.” He pointed at the corner of the house to his left.

“Yeah, okay.” She looked like she wanted to punch him in the face. And even though he was frustrated she wasn’t taking this seriously, he also thought she looked like the woman of his dreams, giving him that look like she was going to make him pay for this later and he might even like it.

Bucky stepped down off the porch and made his way across the beaten path to the barn. “Go this way. It’s unlikely they’ll have men posted here. They’ll send a team up this way once they’ve got the driveway blocked. Use the barn to block their line of sight. She followed along behind him as they climbed the incline up to the weathered structure. “Go behind it and head up that way.”

They walked around the rear of the barn furthest from the driveway, the sun beating on their backs. Once they cleared the barn there was a wide field that inclined slightly. It was all dirt and tumbleweeds and scruffy low bushes, and had to have been a quarter of a mile. She trudged along behind him, her breathing becoming more labored as they made their way to the crest.

When he turned around to find her, she was several yards behind him. “Come on,” he told her. “I need you to see this.”

Darcy flipped a hand through her dark hair. “I’m coming. I’m back here to strategically stare at your ass. If I’m too close, I don’t get a good view.”

“What?” The question was out of his mouth before he’d even had a chance to comprehend what she’d said.

She smiled. “Keep walking. Your ass does some fantastic things when you walk.”

He barked out a rough, unexpected laugh. “Get up here,” he told her.

“God, you’re so fucking bossy now,” she muttered, catching up to him at the crest of the hill and looking toward the distance. It was a gentle grade down to a weathered wooden and wire fence that had probably been installed decades ago. A flat field followed and then a cluster of three houses.

“You run to those houses. Fast as you can. Tell them a home invasion is going on and to call the police.”

“Okay,” she said. “Out the window, around the barn, over the river and through the woods, to grandma’s house we go.”

“Darcy, take this seriously. I don’t want them to hurt you.”

“They aren’t going to find you. But, okay. I hear you. I’ll do this thing if they pop in without calling first.”

“You got a fucking attitude, you know that?” he said, putting his hand on his hip and looking down at her. She was a firecracker, and he hated to admit that he liked it. A sweet, kind girl who cared about him and liked to roll her eyes at his paranoia and bullshit, because she was probably right; it really was unlikely that HYDRA would make the connection. There were only nine other people who knew his location and Steve trusted each of them implicitly.

“So do you,” she said. “It’s good your booty makes up for it, though.”

He reached out his hand and grabbed her shoulder to firmly turn her back to the house. “Go,” he commanded.

“Sir, yes sir. What were you? Sarge? I think I do remember that from your file.”

“March,” he told her with a smile. “It’s only fair I get to stare at your ass on the way back.”

She laughed and turned to face him, walking backward. “Not if I walk backward.”

“Then I get to stare at your chest,” he shot back, feeling lighter.

She laughed again and turned around, a little extra swing in her hips as she made her way down the sloping hill. Don’t even think about it, he told himself. Not for you. Never ever for you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all you lovely people who have left me encouraging messages and thank you's and happiness. I appreciate each and every one of them. If you want me to stalk you, then you can find me on Tumblr as [anogete](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/anogete).


	6. Chapter 6

> “How will I drink from that stream? How will my heart sing your praise? How will I lay down in green grass fields when my soul is so afraid to rejoice?” - The Last Word Is Rejoice (Mineral)

**[7:35pm, April 29th, New Mexico]**

When they’d arrived back at the house, she’d retrieved the gun from her bedroom, but only after he’d reminded her again. She’d sat it on the island in the kitchen and stared him down, telling him that she’d never ever forgive him if he went back on his word.

He’d promised her again that it was only a last resort, and he’d meant it. He’d meant every single word of it, because as much as he was telling himself that she wasn’t for him, he kept thinking about her in relation to his future. Before he hadn’t had a future. Now he was thinking of tomorrow and whether she’d come visit him in his bed before she did her morning rounds, and he was thinking of next week and what he’d make her for dinner since he was short an arm and also short basic cooking knowledge.

The gun was stowed away in the nightstand drawer. He’d showed her where it was in case she needed it. She needed every advantage. Just in case.

He’d spent most of the afternoon watching her work at her laptop on the island. She was going through data and coding it, forwarding sections of relevance to Jane. Apparently, Jane was working across the country at an observatory in West Virginia. The satellites were linked up to provide more complete data, or, at least, that’s what he’d gathered from Darcy’s mutterings and the way her fingers flew over the keys.

He’d devoured most of the first book in the trilogy she’d recommended. It wasn’t exactly like Harry Potter, but it was similar—a book for children that could be read on a deeper level by adults. The story focused on a young girl named Lyra. He liked Lyra, and he liked her companions–a talking bear and an old cowboy.

When the sun set, she stopped working and made the best turkey sandwiches he’d ever had, and she’d done it with such little effort. Bread, spicy brown mustard, crispy lettuce, and a thick slice of tomato. They’d shared a bag of kettle chips she’d pulled from the cupboard and a jug of sweet tea from the fridge. He’d eaten and drank the lion’s share, but she didn’t seem to mind. She’d just watched him with that little smile on her face and those blue eyes that made his chest feel warm.

He showered after dinner and sat on his bed with the book. He needed to give her space or she’d think he was crazy. He took the thought back when he heard her poke her head into his bedroom.

“Hey, get your trunks on and come check out the hot tub.”

He swallowed hard and shook his head. “No, that’s okay. I’m, uh, reading,” he said, holding up the book.

Darcy rolled her eyes. “You can read all day tomorrow. Come on. Have a little fun.”

More like torture, he thought. More like, come watch me tease you by wearing a tiny little bikini. “I’m good,” he said.

“Fine, party pooper. Read your book.”

And then she was gone, the doorway empty and Bucky wondering if maybe he should have agreed. When else was he going to have the privilege of seeing her skin like that? He focused on the page in front of him and found he’d read the entire thing and not registered a single thing that had happened. Would she wear the black and white swimsuit again?

He read the page a second time and forced himself to pay attention. By the time he finished the chapter, he heard the door to the patio open. Bucky licked his lips and thought about what she might look like. He turned out the light in his bedroom and peeked out the window like a creep. She was in another bikini. This one was bluish-green with a repeating pattern of little black dinosaur skeletons. It was bizarre and so completely her. And when she turned to grab her glass of iced tea, he saw that the suit also barely contained her tits. Damn.

“Hey, I see you creeping on me. Get your fine ass out here,” she said, focusing her eyes on the window he was behind.

“Fuck,” Bucky cursed, letting the curtain fall back into place. He couldn’t stay in the bedroom now. He’d have to at least go out and explain himself. Not that he could explain himself other than to say that he wanted to see her body.

Wiping his sweaty palm on his shorts, he walked into the living room and out the open door to the patio. “Sorry,” he said, trying not to look at her chest when he apologized.

“Where are your trunks? You can’t get in there like that.” She had one hand on her jutted out hip and the other holding the iced tea. And she looked like a fucking dream with tendrils of her hair escaping the clasp on top of her head.

“I’m not getting in.”

“Like hell you’re not. Get your trunks on.”

“Darcy…”

“You wanna wear just your underwear then? ‘Cause I’m _so_ down with that.”

He looked up to meet her gaze and she raised her brows like she was asking him which it was going to be.

“Fuck. Fine. I’ll get the trunks.” He turned his back on her.

“You’re a pushover, Barnes.”

He shook his head, but he couldn’t stop the smile from growing on his face. It only took him a minute to strip and pull on his trunks. He did it with the door open, feeling cocky and brave. If she saw him naked, so what? She’d made it clear she liked the way he looked, even with the missing arm. If she wanted an eyeful, he’d give it to her.

He stood in front of the mirror in his bedroom and tried to see what she saw. All he could see was wet hair from the shower, an uneven body missing an arm, and dead eyes. He shook his head and averted his gaze. He wasn’t good with mirrors, and hadn’t been for decades. All he could see was a stranger, not the boy he was years ago who slicked back his hair and made dames fall at his feet with a wink and a smile. He couldn’t manage that any longer.

When he emerged from from the house, she was already in the tub, her arms stretched out over the edge. Her chest was half submerged and half not. The bubbles were lapping at the swell of her breasts and the sight made him lick his lips. He was pretty sure he shouldn’t be doing this.

“If I looked as hot as you with my shirt off, I’d never wear a shirt,” she told him as he stepped up to get into the tub opposite her.

Bucky raised his brows as he settled into the warm water. “Doll, you’d look hotter. And you need to keep your shirt on if you want my brain to work.”

She laughed, obviously delighted by his response. Maybe she thought he was joking. He was, but he also wasn’t. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” she asked.

He assumed she was talking about the water. It did. So did everything else. The chilly night air and the way she was smiling at him. The realization he didn’t want to use that gun at all. In that moment, not a single cell in him wanted to end this. It _all_ felt good. “Yeah,” he said. “It feels good.”

“It’s the saving grace of this house. I mean, don’t get me wrong, this little vay-kay is nice, but there’s nothing to do but stare at celestial data for Jane, read a shitload of books, and soak in this hot tub.” She lifted a leg out of the water and pointed her toes at him. “You saved me from boredom. I’ve only been here a couple weeks, and I don’t think I would have made it much longer without human interaction.”

Bucky smiled at her. It felt strained because he wanted to reach out and grab the foot she’d already submerged again. He wanted to grab it and run the flat of his tongue up the arch until he got to her toes. And then he wanted to slip her big toe between his lips and suck on it. Steve had always given Bucky hell for staring at dames’ feet. There was just something about red-painted toenails and a dainty foot that made him weak, and her toes were painted fire engine red. That and the cleavage barely contained by that little bikini top were wrecking his ability to talk.

“I’m glad to be here, doll.”

She sighed and leaned her head back. He swallowed hard as he unabashedly stared at her tits. She was fucking gorgeous. Hourglass figure with a generous ass, plump lips that always seemed to be turned up into a devious smirk, big blue eyes that sometimes looked at him like she would eat him up and he’d fucking love it. Bucky closed his eyes and tried to imprint the moment in his memory so he could think back on it when things weren’t so good. He hadn’t had too many of these moments in his life, and she was laying them on him like she was handing out candy on Halloween.

“Do you like the book?” she asked. He opened his eyes to see her head was still tilted back.

“Yeah, it’s good. I’m almost done with the first.”

“I sobbed when I finished the third. It’s… emotional.”

“Must be good, then,” he said. “Has to be if it hits hard like that.”

She looked up at him. “It’s gorgeous and tragic. You’ll see.”

He smiled. “I will.” When he opened his mouth to ask her what he could make her for breakfast, he heard the jingle of a phone.

Darcy jerked upright. “Oh, shit. That’s the burner phone Steve gave me. It’s on the coffee table.”

Bucky jumped out of the tub, almost slipping on the wooden step. He got to the phone right as it gave a fourth ring. It was one of those old flip phones. Opening it, he just listened. If it was someone other than Steve then he didn’t want them to hear his voice.

“Darcy? It’s Steve.”

“Hey, punk,” Bucky said, relieved that it was his friend. He walked out onto the patio.

“Hey, Buck. You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. You want to talk to her?”

“Nah, I called for you,” Steve said.

Bucky pulled the phone away from his ear. “It’s Steve. I’m gonna go out on the porch and talk to him.”

She smiled and gave him a wink. “Okay.”

“What’s going on?” he asked Steve as he walked through the house and out the front door.

“Nat went undercover and found one of the HYDRA plants in the Russian Prime Minister’s office. We were able to crack his computer and get the names of some of the other agents. We think we might have the name of the man who falsified the evidence against you and T’Challa.”

“How is T’Challa? And Wakanda?”

“He’s not happy. A couple days ago he was set on going in guns blazing, but his advisors talked him down. If we can catch Russia in a lie, then we can stop this whole mess in its tracks.”

“You apologize for me?”

“No need to. He doesn’t blame you. I told him the risk when he took you in. He knew what he was getting into.”

Bucky knew that, but it didn’t mean he didn’t have guilt over playing a role in the attack on Wakanda. “Still, you tell him I’m sorry. Yeah?”

Steve sighed. “Yeah. I will. You been okay?”

“Good as I can be.”

“How is she?”

Now it was Bucky’s turn to sigh. “She’s… she’s something.”

“What’s that mean? Something good or something bad?”

Bucky hesitated, pressing the phone to his ear with a shoulder so he could run his hand through the damp hair. “Good.”

Steve chuckled. “She’s your type.”

“Yeah. She’s…” Bucky didn’t know how to explain to Steve exactly what Darcy was. She was too many things, none of which he deserved. “She saved my ass last night.”

“How so?”

“I turned on the news and saw what was happening. I… I pulled out the gun. I was…”

“Buck,” Steve said on an exhale. “None of this is on you.”

“It feels that way sometimes, though. She caught me. She… she sat on the fucking gun.” He laughed under his breath. “ _Sat_ on it.”

“Bucky, if I weren't so upset that you were going to shoot yourself then I'd be laughing along with you.”

“I'm okay, punk. She put me in my place. I'm okay.”

“You ain't gonna do something stupid, right?” Steve asked.

“I promised her I wouldn’t.”

Steve sighed. “That's not good enough, and you know it.”

“I'm _okay_ , Steve. Really. I was in the hot tub with her when you called.”

“You were what?” Steve sound surprised.

Bucky chuckled under his breath. “She's bossy. Told me I had to. Didn't take much convincing when I saw her in a bikini, though.”

Steve laughed. “You making eyes at Thor’s friend?”

“Nah. I don't deserve her, but she's got a way of making me feel good about myself. I like her.”

“Let me talk to her.”

Bucky shook his head. “Not a chance, punk. You'll tell her I like her, and I've already made a big enough fool of myself in front of her.”

“I won't tell her anything, Buck. Put her on the phone.”

“Why?”

“Just wanna thank her for saving your ass.”

“I'll thank her for you,” Bucky said, walking through the living room.

“Just put her on the phone, jerk.”

Bucky stopped cold when he walked out onto the patio and saw her reclined in the hot tub, her head tilted back and her chest on display. She had one leg hooked over the edge and he could see her perfect toes. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.

“What is it?” Steve asked.

“Nothing. Hold on, here she is.” His voice made Darcy lift her head. He walked over and extended the phone. “It's Steve.”

She wiggled her fingers before taking the phone from him. “Hiya, Cap.”

Bucky grinned. Steve hated to be called that when he wasn't on a mission. She listened for a few seconds and said, “Ain't no thing.”

Steve started talking again. Bucky could hear his voice, but couldn't really make out the words over the sound of the hot tub’s motor and the jets swirling the water around. That and his mind kept going back to her dangling foot and the way her leg was hooked over the edge of the tub. Was she reading his mind and trying to tempt him?

“He's fine. We were having a soak in the hot tub before you so rudely interrupted,” she said. She held up a hand and mimed talking motions with it while she stuck her tongue out.

Bucky chuckled and stepped over to get back into the tub with her. She adjusted herself and, in doing so, grazed his leg with her foot when she pulled it back into the water. He clenched his jaw and tried to will his dick to stay flaccid.

“Oh Bucky, stop that!” she exclaimed, smacking her hand against the water. He looked up, unsure of what he did. “Woah, there big guy, let me hang up with Steve-o before you put your mouth there.”

Bucky's eyes went wide. What?

“Gotta go, Cap. He's getting a little feisty. Stop worrying and shit. Byyyyye!” She flipped the phone shut and sat it down on the edge of the tub.

“Did you just lead him to believe…”

“That I have a healthy sex life? Yes.”

He smiled. “Well, I was going to say did you lead him to believe we’re having sex.”

“Yeah, that too. It sounds like a really good idea when you say it.”

He laughed and tried not to stare at her wet tits. Something told him that if he moved over to sit beside her that she'd let him do pretty much anything he wanted. Mostly because what he wanted was to put his mouth on every inch of her curvy little body.

His dick was hardening and he needed to remove himself from the situation before he did something embarrassing or regrettable. Quickly, he pushed himself up out of the water and turned away from her so she couldn't see his half-hard cock right there in her face. He almost tripped as he got out of the tub because he was thinking about her kneeling in front of him and looking up at him with those eyes.

“I should get to bed,” he muttered. “Goodnight, Darcy.”

Maybe it was his imagination, but she sounded a little disappointed when she said, “Night, Bucky.”

He stripped off his wet trunks and hung them on the doorknob after he closed the door. A few moments later he heard her get up and turn off the hot tub. He stood in the middle of the bedroom floor naked and still wet. The patio light switched off and then he could hear the sound of her bare feet pad across the hardwood floor in the living room. He held his breath as she passed by his unlocked door and entered the bathroom.

Relief and disappointment washed through him. She turned the shower on and a few seconds later the sound of the water falling to the tile below was broken and muted when it hit her body and slid down the hills and valleys of her figure.

Bucky leaned his back against the door and took his cock in his hand. Closing his eyes, he imagined what it would be like to get in the shower with her. To kneel in front of her and run his tongue all the way up her leg from ankle to hip. Would she be vocal and cry out for him if he opened his mouth over her pussy, licked her until she used her hands to hold him against her as she came all over his face?

“Fuck,” he grunted, squeezing his dick as he moved his fist up and down the length of it. It felt harsh and rough, so he brought his trembling palm up to his mouth and licked it. That did the trick. His wet palm gilded right over the smooth skin of his shaft. He gave his wrist a little twist when he got to his tip.

He could probably join her in the shower. Worship her properly before lifting her up and sliding his cock deep inside her. Watch her lips part as she gasped his name, begged him to...

Bucky grunted as he came, spilling himself all over his hand. He felt like a horny teenager, chest heaving and his head cloudy with the rush of pleasure and adrenaline. He stood there, feeling only slightly ashamed, until the shower turned off.

Swallowing the rising emotions that were fluttering around his chest, he cleaned up after himself, pulled on a clean pair of boxers, and fell into bed. It took him less than five minutes to fall into a deep sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone wanna take bets on when Darcy will wear Bucky down enough that he'll get nekkid with her? ;-) I'll tell you if you're warm or cold.


	7. Chapter 7

> “Secrets I have held in my heart are harder to hide than I thought. Maybe I just wanna be yours.” - I Wanna Be Yours (Arctic Monkeys)

**[4:57pm, May 7th, New Mexico]**

They had fallen into a routine over the past week. He’d get up first and shower before starting breakfast. She would get up later and sit on her stool while he finished up. She’d make coffee, too. It was difficult to hold the lid up and pour the water into the reservoir with only one hand. She didn’t comment on things like that; she just filled in the gaps like it was second nature.

Most nights he jerked off to thoughts of her. Thoughts of her in his bed. In the shower. On the lip of the hot tub. On the low wall of the patio. Against the front door. Over the back of the couch. He’d had her every which way in his fantasies because there was no way he could make them reality even if he was almost sure she’d be game. She’d tear you apart, he thought as he settled onto the bench outside the barn. He read here in the mornings while she worked. Sometimes they’d watch a movie in the afternoon. The house had an extensive DVD selection from the eighties and nineties. Darcy always picked, and he noticed she never picked the action films after he’d had a difficult time hiding his discomfort with The Terminator. She’d never commented on it, but he knew she’d seen him and the way he’d reacted.

She always cooked dinner. Last night she’d made steak, roasted vegetables, and biscuits. He couldn’t remember food ever tasting so damn good. He’d sit at the island and watch her cook and play a game with himself, trying to guess what was on the menu. He usually had it pinpointed within ten minutes. He made the mistake of telling her about his little game the previous night and she’d gotten a glint in her eyes like she was already planning on throwing him off.

He’d finished the book trilogy she’d recommended to him, and he refused to admit it, but the ending had made his heart so heavy he’d teared up. While the first book had been about a young, tenacious girl named Lyra, the second book had introduced a boy name Will Parry. Lyra lived in an alternate dimension that mirrored our own, while Will lived in our world. Will crossed over and met Lyra. As the two fell in love, they lost the ability to see things as innocent children. But the rift in the fabric between their worlds was damaging both, eventually forcing Lyra and Will to separate forever, each to their own dimension. They agreed to meet at the same bench at the same time each year in their separate worlds so they could be together without actually being together. It was so innocent and so pure that it made his heart ache. Maybe he was just an emotional mess nowadays. Maybe he needed to spend less time with her.

He’d started another book the day before. It had stickers on it, claiming to be a best seller. It wasn’t nearly as good as Will’s and Lyra’s story. He was just about to close the book and head back to the house when he saw her walk out onto the back porch. She waved at him and got in the car. The back tires kicked up a cloud of dust as she drove off, probably to get food. He’d stayed out on his bench late because she had needed to work through the afternoon. It was getting close to five o’clock. He wondered when she’d be back. Her leaving made him anxious. What if something happened to her out there when he wasn’t around to protect her? Not that he could do much with a missing arm, but he was better than nothing.

Bucky walked down the hill, the sun beating on the back of his head as it descended toward the horizon behind him. She’d spent a couple nights in the hot tub since the night he’d joined her. He’d refused both times. It was too much, too close. She looked at him like she wanted it, but anything more than what they had would be inappropriate and fuck his head up. Because he’d want more and he couldn’t have it. Not with anyone, but definitely not with a girl like her.

The air conditioner was humming quietly as he stepped into the cool living room. He dropped the book onto the counter and poured himself a glass of ice water. It tasted good after spending the majority of the day sitting outside in the heat. Bucky eyed the television warily, wondering what secrets it held. What was happening in the larger world? If Darcy knew, she wasn’t talking. And he didn’t want to call Steve even if the burner cell phones seemed safe and untraceable.

The last time he’d turned on the television without her, he’d ended up with a gun in his hand. He walked around the sofa, picked up the remote, and turned on the power. The screen blinked on and showed a man in a suit and tie at an anchor desk. The newscaster talked about a drug bust in Santa Fe that had been linked with a Mexican drug cartel, and then he talked about a recall on Hyundai vehicles sold in the past five years. And then they switched over to the national news for a moment, previewing what was coming up in the next half hour.

“While the Russian Prime Minister denies knowledge of the falsified tapes, reports out of the Kremlin are that his position of power is in jeopardy. Two members of his senior staff have been directly connected with the Argentinian man who is accused of doctoring video and audio evidence against Wakandan King T'Challa and others.”

The screen split in half to show a blonde anchor and a man in a suit with a graying mustache. “Richard Leonard, former White House analyst, joins us. Richard, do you believe the information that came to light recently will pull us back from the brink of war?”

“That's a great question, Gina. The underlying issues that precipitated this conflict are still very much in play, though I strongly believe that all military offenses by Russia against Wakanda will be halted. Russia has egg on its face to be sure. However, like I said, our relationship with Russia and China has been strained recently and this situation only highlights that.”

Bucky hit the power button and watched the screen go black. So, it wasn’t over, and no one was talking about HYDRA, which was frustrating to say the least. But the world wasn’t on the brink of war. Or at least maybe not. Darcy had been right. Things weren’t so cut and dry and he’d been used as part of the catalyst, but his actions hadn’t played into the conflict.

He felt stupid for overreacting that night when he’d almost shot himself. He wondered if she thought he was stupid or dramatic. He wondered if she understood him or just humored him because she felt pity. His thoughts made him feel uncomfortable and pathetic, undeserving of her time and attention.

He heard her car outside and almost went into his bedroom and locked the door to hide from her. Almost. Her horn made him jerk his body toward the door. When he got outside, she was standing at the trunk. “Come on, big guy. I’m not carrying this all inside myself.”

There were five paper bags neatly lined up in the trunk. He didn’t meet her gaze as he approached and wrapped his arm around the one that looked the heaviest. She followed him inside with another, and while Darcy started stowing the groceries, he retrieved the other bags one at a time because he was a loser with one arm.

When he put the last bag on the counter by the fridge, she turned to smile at him. “Wanna play your game?”

With his current mood, he’d been set on spending time alone in his bedroom instead of sitting with her. Her question took him off guard. “What game?”

“The what-is-Darcy-cooking game.” She gave him a devious grin “If you guess wrong, you owe me a favor of my choosing. You guess right, you can have whatever you want.”

Whatever he wanted. She didn’t have a clue what he wanted was her or she wouldn’t have worded it that way. “Okay,” he agreed. “Do I have to pick my favor now?”

“No,” she said. “You can call it in later. _If_ you win, that is. And you’re not gonna win.”

Bucky sat down on the stool behind her as she stowed some apples in the crisper drawer. “What if I ask for something you don’t wanna give?”

Darcy turned around and gave him that wide, devilish smile. “I trust you. Besides, I don’t think there’s much you’d ask for that I’m not willing to give.”

Was she hitting on him? Intimating that she wanted to fuck him? Bucky licked his lips and dropped his gaze to the floor. He’d been feeling like he was her charity case a few minutes ago and now he was trying to keep his dick in his pants while she flirted. What a fucking rollercoaster of emotion. He wished he could read her mind and really know what she thought about him beneath all the smiles and winks and off-handed compliments.

“Okay,” he agreed like it wasn’t even a question. “You stump me then I’ll do whatever you want.”

Her grin was devious and so was the glint in her eye. And he knew he’d probably already lost the game right then and there. She dropped the bread into a drawer under the toaster and pulled out a shallow roasting pan. There was a pack of chicken on the counter by the sink, and she washed and seasoned four breasts before placing them in the pan. The pan went in the oven while she chopped up vegetables across from him on the island.

“You turned on the TV,” she said, cutting a fingerling potato into small pieces.

“Mmm, hmm,” he agreed, though he had no idea how she knew. Maybe he’d moved the remote.

“How’s the world out there?”

“Fucked up,” he answered, watching her hands. Her nails were painted bright red, same as her toes.

“Well, that’s not news. Looks like Cap and Company exposed the mastermind behind the doctored audio and video footage.”

“Yeah,” he agreed.

“I wish they’d expose HYDRA, but it looks like they’re too underground. None of the people they placed in the Russian government can be tied to them officially, even though we all know that’s where they came from.”

“We, huh?”

“Yeah. You guys pulled me into this, so it’s _we_ now.”

Bucky didn’t know what to say, so he just shook his head. She shouldn’t be part of this, but the way she just accepted his fight as hers made his chest feel tight. “Who you been talking to to know all this?” he finally asked.

“Your buddy, your pal, Steve. He called earlier today while you were out reading by the barn. I was gonna come out and get you, but he said no.”

“What else did he say?”

“That Tony Stark is working on a new arm for you. That he’s worried like a motherfucker about you. Except he didn’t cuss. That was just my translation.”

Bucky chuckled softly and watched her cut neat slices of a carrot. “You might be surprised. I’ve heard him get a little heated and let loose a few fucks now and then.”

She gasped in feigned shock. “Captain America, pillar of freedom and goodness? Fucking never.”

He laughed again and dropped his eyes to the countertop. “Next time he calls, tell him I don’t want a new arm.”

“Yeah, you do,” she told him.

“Mine was a weapon. I don’t want a replacement. I just want to be…”

“Yeah, I know. _Normal_ ,” she said, cutting his thought off. “Normal is overrated. Normal is boring. I’m not friends with normal, but I am friends with a sexy-ass, one-armed, one-hundred-year-old, retired Sergeant who is totally full of shit sometimes.”

She finished chopping the vegetables, piled them all up on the center of the cutting board, and then she was pulling out pre-made pie crust from the fridge and giving a pie pan a spritz of oil before working the crust into the corners of it. Chicken, vegetables, pie crust.

He watched her open a can containing cream of chicken soup. She was doing everything as if it were a performance, so he knew he was absolutely wrong when he thought she was making chicken pot pie. She had all the ingredients, but she’d never let him off that easy.

“So, you wanna take a guess?” she asked, looking up from the open can.

Fuck it. He knew he was wrong, but he really wanted to know what she’d ask of him when she won. “Chicken pot pie,” he told her.

“Final answer?”

He nodded.

She didn’t respond, just turned to empty the can of soup into a small sauce pan. The veggies were dumped onto the tray with the chicken and everything was drizzled with some olive oil before going back in to bake longer. The pie crust was still sitting on the island in front of him. Yeah, he was totally wrong, but he didn’t mind all that much.

She opened the fridge and pulled out a large bag of cherries. Bucky watched as she made quick work of pitting them and dumping them into another saucepan to cook. She checked on the chicken and vegetables, stirred the soup, and then added sugar and cornstarch to the cherries. They cooked for a few more minutes while she divided the soup up into two bowls and removed the pan of chicken and veggies from the oven. He could watch her all day. She didn’t even need to acknowledge him. He could just sit here and watch her do mundane things and it would be perfect.

She dumped the pie filling into the crust, rolled another piece of crust on top, cut slits, crimped the edges with a fork, and popped it into the oven.

“You making me pie?”

She leaned back into the counter by the stove and looked at him. “Cherry. Your favorite.”

“I see that,” he said, but his thoughts were swirling around how she did too much for him, spoiled him. He didn’t deserve all this. “So, since I lost, what’s your favor?” he asked her when she pushed up on her tiptoes to get two plates from the cabinet.

Darcy sat the plates by the stove top and put a piece of chicken and some veggies on hers. The other chicken and veggies got piled on his plate. “Haven’t decided yet,” she told him before turning around to put the plate in front of him. She returned with his bowl of soup and utensils.

He tucked in and cut into one of the chicken breasts. They were juicy and perfectly seasoned. He’d never had such good food in his life. She didn’t follow recipes, didn’t talk about it, didn’t even seem to pay much attention to what she was doing. Her cooking was like everything else about her, effortlessly perfect.

She put her fork down and took a drink of the sweet tea she’d made yesterday. “What do you want your new arm to look like? Gold with white unicorn silhouettes? Black with silver hearts? Or hot pink with my name down the forearm?”

Bucky just shook his head, trying not to smile and encourage her. He was doing a bad job of hiding his amusement, but that was okay. “None of the above.”

“You just want boring-ass silver, don’t you?”

“I don’t want anything.”

“What about one that looks like skin? I mean, if the technology existed. What about one that didn’t look metal?”

He wasn’t an expert on technology, but he didn’t think her pie-in-the-sky dream of a natural-looking arm was possible. But if it were… “Yeah, that’d be okay, I guess.”

“Yeah?”

“I just want to be…”

“Don’t you dare say normal, you dork,” she said, cutting him off.

“Conventional,” he told her with a defiant lift of his chin. The serious look of his face crumbled into a smile when she rolled her eyes at him.

“Common, middle-of-the-road, ordinary, unremarkable. Ugh.” She stuck her tongue out at him before taking another bite of her food.

“Traditional and time-honored,” he countered.

“Such a romantic,” Darcy replied.

He hadn’t thought about it that way, but maybe she was right. Romantic. If he could have what he wanted deep down in his heart, it would be that idyllic life with someone who loved him. It hurt to think about it because that dream wasn’t within reach any longer. His life didn’t lend itself to marriage and Saturday morning pancakes and cook-outs in the backyard. He was just playing house with her right now. It felt good, but it wouldn’t last. The clock was ticking whether she heard it or not. Sometimes he’d look at her and forget that this wasn’t real, but it didn’t take too long for his mind to dip back to reality.

Not replying to her comment, he finished up his food and tried not to look at her. Looking at her made it easy to get lost in the moment, and he shouldn’t do that. It would only make it harder in the end. She finished up her dinner and watched him as he drained his glass of sweet tea. “Cherries are in season. I got fresh ones for the pie,” she said.

This was painful. He wanted to give in and just be with her, but if he kept letting himself live this lie, then it would be devastating when the rug got pulled out from under him. Her eyes were worried; he could see the concern written all over her face. Fuck it. He was already in deep. His heart was already going to be ripped into pieces when he had to leave.

“Never had a girl make me a pie before,” he said softly.

She laughed softly under her breath, the worry disappearing so easily like she could bounce back from anything. “I find that difficult to believe. Weren’t you just the smoothest ladies’ man ever back in the day? I bet all those girls in the forties made you pies all the time.”

He shrugged. “One dame made me a layer cake for my birthday. Except it wasn’t my birthday.”

“Why’d she think it was your birthday?”

He pressed his lips together and smiled at her. “I might have led her to believe it was so I could get a kiss.”

“James Barnes, you dog,” she said, her voice dry and flat. “Unbelievable.”

“Hey, gotta work with what you have.”

She snorted out a laugh. “I bet you could have gotten a kiss without the lie.”

“The lie got me a little more than a kiss.”

This time she opened her mouth and let out a full-bodied laugh, curling in on herself. When she sat back up, she said, “Again, I bet you could have gotten that without the lie.” Then she was slipping off the stool and checking the pie.

Bucky watched her ass as she bent over and pulled it from the oven. She had on a pair of dark green stretchy pants that hugged every inch of her legs like a second skin. Unconsciously, he licked his bottom lip as his gaze shifted to the spot where her legs met right underneath her perfectly plump ass. Right where he could slide his cock while she was bent over. No. He shifted his eyes to the floor. Not for him.

“Pie needs to cool before we can have a slice. Come hang out in the hot tub with me. Your swimming trunks are going to waste.” She was standing there looking at him with a hand on her hip and all he could think about was peeling her clothes off and running his tongue all over her body. He didn’t need to see her in a bikini when he felt like this.

“Yeah, okay,” he said despite his rational side telling him that he should go to his room, jerk off, and try to sleep away his feelings.

She squeaked in pleasure and hurried into her room to change. He’d done that just then—made her happy. Just like that, without even realizing it. How was it that easy? Instead of dwelling on it, he went into his room and changed into his trunks. Feeling brave and reckless, he left the door open even though he rushed to strip and pull the shorts on quickly. What if she saw him? He didn’t really want that to happen, but he wouldn’t mind. Maybe he did want her to see him. Maybe she’d still his hands and tell him to lie down on the bed so she could climb on top of him and…

The sound of the patio door opening knocked him out of the fantasy. Bucky sucked in a deep, shaky breath. He needed to stop the fantasies. They’d just get him in trouble.

By the time he emerged from the house, she had the hot tub bubbling away and warming up. The nights were never too cold here, so it didn’t take long for the water to heat up. They could probably jump in without the machine on and be comfortable. She was in a bikini he hadn’t seen yet. It was all black and smaller than the other two. The edges of the bottoms revealed half of her ass and it rode so low on her hips that he wondered if he would be able to see the top of her mound when she turned around. She did turn around, but all he saw was her soft stomach that he’d pressed his face into a little over a week ago. He wished he could do that again, but maybe this time with no tears and the intention of licking her pussy until she clamped her thighs down on his ears. The top was even smaller than the bottom. Two triangles to cover most, but not all of her tits, and strings that tied around her ribcage and neck. When she lifted her arms to tie her long hair up into a bun on top of her head, he could see the bottoms of her breasts peeking out of the top.

This was either the best idea he’d ever had or a terrible mistake. Probably the latter because he could feel his dick twitching like it was up for some action. She stepped up on the narrow wooden platform around the tub and gingerly swiped the toes of her left foot through the water. Fuck. He needed to go back to bedroom and take care of himself before he pulled her down and bent her over the nearest piece of furniture. His suspicion that she wouldn’t stop him–that she actually might be enthusiastic and responsive–made him even hornier.

No, he told himself. She’s not yours. She’s being nice and helpful and you can’t repay her by fucking her into the mattress or floor or wall or whatever flat surface is close.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, settling into the water.

He turned away from her and adjusted his half-hard cock in the swimming trunks. “Nothing,” he replied before he moved over to the hot tub and used his right hand to hide his groin as he sat down across from her.

Her leg grazed against his as he shifted to get comfortable on the seat. His teeth were clamped together so tight that he wondered if he could break his own jaw. “It’s staying light longer,” she said, looking out over the rough landscape beyond the low patio wall.

“It is,” he agreed, gratefully taking his eyes off her. The sun had already set, but the sky was still a soft blue. Light enough that he could see the tendrils of her hair that had escaped the clip holding the rest up. They were wet and plastered against the skin of her neck and shoulders. His fingers flexed underneath the water as he thought about touching her.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she said. When he looked up all he saw were her blue eyes and soul-crushing sincerity in them.

“Me too,” he whispered. And wasn’t that the truest fucking thing he’d ever said. Even though he knew he shouldn’t be glad. Even though he knew he should be in chilly northern Canada in an empty house. Even though being with her was frustrating because he couldn’t have her. Even though all that, he was so goddamn glad he was here.

Darcy twisted and reached down into the water. “Ugh, my feet are killing me. Too much cooking. I didn’t realize the pie would take so long. Forgot about pitting the cherries.”

“Give me your foot.” He said it without thinking, without considering that his half-erection was going to be rock hard if he touched her feet.

She laughed softly. “What?”

He lifted his chin and then dropped it back to level. “I give good massages,” he offered.

Her brows raised. “Oh, yeah? Well, in that case…” She lifted her right foot up out of the water and held in right in front of him, wiggling her toes.

Bucky wrapped his fingers around the middle of her foot and pressed his thumb into her arch. “It’d be better if I had two hands.”

Her arms were resting across the edge of the tub and her fingers were curled tightly over the lip of it. “This is feeling pretty fucking good. I don’t know how it could get better.”

Squeezing, he moved his thumb up to the ball of her foot and then to the tender spots between her toes. “I have a thing for feet,” he admitted.

“What kind of thing?”

“Just a thing. I like feet.”

She laughed and it was breathy and sexy and made him want to lower her foot to rub against his dick. He’d probably come so hard if he did that, though. He worked on her right until she pulled it away and replaced it with her left. Except she didn’t put her right foot down. She settled it on his knee. Bucky swallowed hard and tried to concentrate on keeping his dick from busting through his swimming trunks.

He needed to get the fuck out of the tub before he did something he’d regret, because he was two seconds from jerking off in front of her or pushing off the seat and pinning her down while he ripped the little bikini off and sucked on her nipples. Neither of which was a viable option.

Bucky let go of her foot and stood, quickly turning. “How about that pie?” he asked, pressing his cock down with his hand while he stepped out of the tub. He kept his back to her as he walked into the house and went directly into the bathroom. Shutting the door, he pushed the trunks down, took his cock in his hand, and fucked his fist until he came all over it and the tile floor. The orgasm was so powerful, he’d thumped the crown of his head against the door when he came.

“Hey, you okay?” Her voice was on the other side of the door. She sounded strange.

“Yeah. Just had to piss. Don’t worry about it.” He sounded wrecked. She could probably hear it in his voice.

After a long moment of silence, she said, “Oh, okay.”

It took him five minutes to clean up and slow the galloping of his heart. When he came out of the bathroom, she was standing at the kitchen island with two slices of pie and two forks on one plate in front of her. The island blocked his view of her lower half, but he could see she was still in the itty bitty bikini from the hot tub. Her tits looked like a work of art. Good thing he’d just jerked off.

“Looks delicious,” he said, walking over to stand beside her.

She gave him a quizzical look before picking up her fork and sinking it into the tip of the piece on her side. God, she probably knew he’d gone in there to beat off to her. Maybe if he ignored it then she’d just forget. Instead of saying anything more, he brought a piece of pie up to his mouth.

It was perfect. Sweet and tart and mouth-watering. Fucking flawless. Just like her.


	8. Chapter 8

> “You could hold the secrets that save me from myself. I could love you more than love could all the way from hell.” - My Favourite Faded Fantasy (Damien Rice)

**[5:41am, May 8th, New Mexico]**

She was on top of him, chest-to-chest, hip-to-hip, writhing like she was in heat and he was the only thing that could quench the fire, and he had his hands on her, trying to still her movements so he could slide up inside her. Wait. Hands? Both hands? And then she was gone, fully clothed and standing across the room with a gun to her head. Her blue eyes were wide and terrified, and the man standing behind her had that fucking HYDRA symbol tattooed on his forearm.

Bucky propelled himself out of bed and toward her, the metal arm quickly shifting into action. And then he wasn’t moving, he was being held back by too many hands. A familiar man was standing in front of him. He’d been one of the handlers who had given orders before Bucky had escaped HYDRA. The man lifted a gun, and Bucky found himself staring down the dark barrell. In slow motion, fire blasted out of the muzzle, and Bucky lifted his left arm to deflect the bullet. Except he didn’t have a left arm. It was gone. He felt the impact of getting shot in his right shoulder, but there was no pain, only a punch that knocked him back. And then hands dragging him away from her.

“No!” he screamed. “No! Don’t you fucking touch her! Don’t you touch her!”

“Bucky!” He heard her scream his name, but he couldn’t see her. It was all blackness and greedy hands that were holding him back from making his way to her side.

“Don’t hurt her!” He sounded pathetic and pleading now. “No!”

“Bucky. Bucky.” She was saying his name over and over and over. Like a chant.

He woke twisted in bedsheets, one knee pressed into the mattress, and his leg pushed up against something warm.

“Hey, Bucky. Are you with me now?” He looked down and realized he was on top of her. She was flat on her back in his bed and he had her pinned with his hand on her shoulder and his knee nestled between her thighs, right up against her groin. Fuck. What had he done?

“What happened?” he said on a sharp exhale before he rolled off her and onto his back. Bucky covered his eyes with his hand, feeling ashamed.

She shifted onto her side and propped her head up with her hand, elbow planted into the pillow next to his. “Did you have a nightmare? You were calling out in your sleep, but I couldn’t understand you. I came to see what was wrong. When I leaned over to shake you awake, you grabbed me and pulled me into the bed.”

“Fuck. I’m sorry, Darcy,” he whispered, digging his middle finger and his thumb into either side of his eyes. He couldn’t bear to look at her right then.

“Hey, no. Don’t apologize. It’s okay. You were having a nightmare.”

“Did I hurt you?”

“Uh, no. I’m all for sexy dudes wrestling me into a bed. So, yeah. No apology necessary. When do you want to do this again?” She was smiling. He could hear it in her sweet voice. Why did she have to be this way? Why did she make everything so easy and so fucking hard at the same time?

“It’s inappropriate. I’m sorry I…”

“Oh, just shut up,” she said, resting her head on the pillow.

“What time is it?” he asked.

She turned over to look at the clock. “Almost six in the morning,” Darcy said, flipping back to look at him. “You okay?”

“Yeah. You okay?”

She gave him that dazzling smile. “Never better. We can have pie for breakfast before we do the rounds with my little satellite dudes.”

“We?”

“Yep. You’re helping since you woke me up early. But first we’re going to lie here for an hour and be lazy.”

“Okay.” He said that a lot around her. Okay. Sure. Yes, whatever you want, Darcy. Anything. He didn’t even know why she wanted to trick him into a favor yesterday at dinner. She didn’t need one; he’d do whatever she wanted anyway.

“How’d you spend those two years in Bucharest?”

He stared at the ceiling. “What do you mean?”

“What did you do? Work? Hobbies? Girlfriends?”

He pushed a sharp breath out his nose. “I worked mornings at a bakery making the dough in the back. I read books and newspapers and watched television. That's about it.”

“Did you make many friends there?”

“No. I didn’t speak to anyone. Kept to myself.”

“Why?”

“I was in hiding, and I don’t know how to talk to people.”

She shifted and her body ended up closer to his. They weren’t touching, not by a longshot, but she was closer. “But you _do_ know how to. I like talking with you.”

“You’re different.”

“How so?” she asked softly.

Bucky turned his head to the side to look at her. She was like an angel lying there on the other side of his bed with her dark hair spread out over the white pillowcase. “You just are. You’re easy.”

She laughed. “I’m easy?”

Wincing, he said, “That’s not the way I meant it. You’re easy to talk to. You know who I am, but you treat me like I’m normal. Like I’m just some other guy. I… like that.”

“So, no girlfriend in Bucharest?” she asked again.

“Definitely not.”

“Any one night stands?”

He turned his head and looked back up at the ceiling. “You trying to ask me if I’ve had sex since I escaped?”

She laughed again, it was light and breathy. “I guess I am.”

It was easier to say it because the room was dark and she was so sweet and understanding. “Yeah, I hired a girl a couple times. Two different girls. The first one… didn’t really work out. It was my fault. The second one happened, but…”

When he couldn’t figure out how to finish the thought, she prompted him with, “But what?”

Bucky sighed. “It felt bad. Empty. She wasn’t into it. Honestly, I don’t think I was either.”

She was silent for several long seconds. Finally, she said, “I’m sorry, Bucky,” in that soft whisper of hers. She made it sound like she was so close her lips were brushing his ear, but she was actually on the other side of the queen-size bed.

“Don’t be,” he said. “Ain’t your fault. It’s over. That’s not part of my life any more.”

“Don’t do that,” she whispered. “Don’t box yourself in and rule out things. That’s not fair.”

His chest was aching because he wanted her so badly, and she had no fucking clue what she was doing to him, lying in his bed and telling him not to give up on having a woman again. No fucking clue he’d give almost anything to have her. Yeah, he got the impression she’d be open to his advances, but that didn’t mean he should actually try. Or that it would ever have a shot in hell of working out. Because she was not for him.

“Let’s not talk about it,” he said, grasping for a question to ask her to throw her off the scent of his blood. “What’s your favorite movie?”

“Well, I’ve got a lot,” she told him.

He flipped over onto his side so they were face-to-face. “Go on. Tell me.”

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**[6:39am, May 9th, New Mexico]**

“Wake up.” She was slipping into his bed again, but not like yesterday morning when she'd woken him from a nightmare, and not like over a week ago when she'd been checking on him after finding him with the gun. This morning she didn't have a reason, but she was still here.

“I'm already awake,” he told her.

“How'd you sleep?” she asked, settling down into the mattress and turning to face him.

“Okay. How'd you sleep?”

“Obviously not how I wish I'd slept if I'm awake at this god forsaken hour.”

He smiled at her and adjusted the duvet to give her more of it.

“What are you wearing under there?” she asked, lifting the blanket hanging between them. He looked down and saw his bare chest and the plaid boxers she'd bought him. “Oh boy,” she said. “Shouldn't have looked. My brain is scrambled now.” She let the covers drop.

Bucky laughed under his breath and laid his head on his pillow. “You should have seen me before I lost my arm. I got all the dames.”

“I don't know,” she said. “I've seen pictures and I think I definitely prefer this look you've got going on right now. The scruff on your face and the long hair and the brooding. It's doing it for me.”

He chuckled again, dropping his gaze to the bed between them. Was she this way with everyone? Did she casually compliment and flirt with all the men that came through her life? If he tried to make a move, would she melt for him or pull back? He'd have to live with the question because he didn't need to tangle himself up in her anymore than he already was. This was temporary and fleeting. She'd move on with her life and he didn't need to know exactly what he was missing when that happened.

“Why you climbing into bed with me this early in the morning?” he asked.

When he lifted his gaze from the mattress to her face nestled on the pillow, all he could see were big blue eyes and bee-stung lips that begged to be kissed. “Why wouldn't I?” she said. She paused and then continued with, “Can I be serious for a minute?”

“Yeah. You can be whatever you want.”

“How are you? Are you okay?”

“I'm okay. Better than when I got here,” he assured her.

“You're not just saying that to make me happy, right?”

“No, I'm okay. You don't have to sit on my gun,” he said with a grin.

Darcy pushed out her bottom lip in a pout. “And here I was really looking forward to getting to know your gun.”

“It don't work so well any more.”

“Huh,” she said. “I got the impression it was working a couple nights ago.”

He could feel the flush in his cheeks. God, it had been fucking ages since a woman had made him blush. What the hell? Did she know he'd run into the bathroom to jerk off that night? “I… don't know what you think that was, but… I, I was…”

“You was what?” she asked with a devilish grin on that sinful mouth of hers. He could think of a few uses for her mouth that were way better than her calling him out on his bullshit and making him feel like a fifteen-year-old kid who'd just been busted by his sexy teacher.

“I was nothing. I was taking a piss. Like I said.”

“It’s pretty quiet around here at night, and I'm not sure that matches up with what I heard.”

He opened his mouth to tell her she should get her ears checked when the sound of the burner phone ringing saved him. Bucky had never been so grateful for a fucking phone call in his life.

He watched her roll out of bed and hurry out his door, that delicious ass barely contained by her black shorts. He should have looked at her when she lifted the covers. Her pajamas were skimpy as fuck. Just look, though. No touching.

“It's your boyfriend,” she said, poking her head into his bedroom. “You wanna talk to him?”

Bucky sat up and grabbed the dirty pair of sweats from yesterday off the floor. He pulled them up as he stood and walked around the bed to take the phone from her.

“Hey,” he said into the mouthpiece, moving past Darcy and unlocking the front door with the phone wedged between his shoulder and ear. He stepped out onto the porch in the early morning sunlight. The fresh air felt good on the bare skin of his chest and back.

He pulled the door shut as Steve asked him how he'd been.

“Good,” he told his friend.

“Yeah?” Steve asked.

“I'm okay. Really, Steve.”

“Was she joking the last time we talked?”

“Joking about what?” he asked. And then he remembered Darcy insinuating to Steve that they were sleeping together. He chuckled, “Oh, yeah. She was just pulling your chain, punk. Not that I wouldn't want to if things were different.”

“What's stopping you?” Steve asked.

Bucky shook his head. “This whole thing is a mind fuck. I feel like I'm playing house with her.”

“You don't like that?”

“No, I _do_ like it, but I can't have it. You know that, punk. You know it better than anyone. We can't have the normal life.”

“Yeah, but that don't mean you can't have the girl,” Steve countered.

“You don't get it. I don't want to come back. I wanna stay here with her. I can't have that. It's not possible.”

“Did you tell her all this?”

“Fuck no. I can't lay this shit on her. It's just my messed up head wanting the one thing I can't have.”

“What's the one thing you can't have?” Steve asked.

Bucky looked up at the cloudless sky. “You know,” he told Steve

The other man sighed over the phone. “Yeah,” he agreed. After a moment's pause, he said, “When I left you there a couple weeks back you didn't want anything to do with her.”

“I didn't know her then.”

“You do now?”

“Sometimes she crawls into my bed early in the morning and we talk.”

“Just talk?”

“Just talk. But I think she caught me jerking off a couple nights ago.”

Steve’s laugh made Bucky smile despite his embarrassment. “What the hell happened, Buck?”

“She made me get in the hot tub with her and I started giving her a foot massage.”

“Oh man,” Steve said, laughing again. “You and your obsession with feet.”

“She was in this bikini that barely covered her tits and ass, and she was looking at me like she wanted me. _And_ she'd just made me cherry pie for dessert.” Bucky stepped down off the porch and felt the cool, dry earth on his bare soles. “I was a little hot under the collar.”

“You didn't do anything in front of her, did you?” Steve sounded horrified at the thought that someone would do something so crass in front of a lady. What a fucking goody-two-shoes.

“I hid in the bathroom, but I think she heard me.”

“What makes you think that?”

Bucky sat down on the step. “She told me.”

“She _what_?” Now Steve sounded absolutely scandalized that a lady would bring up masturbation in conversation.

“She's pretty forward. Told me I was eye candy. You know what that means?”

“Uh, yeah. I've been told the same by some… ladies.”

“And she told me you and Sam and Thor are sexy-ass motherfuckers who busted up in her rental that night.” He said it with a smile because he knew it would make Steve uncomfortable.

“She said it like that?” Steve asked.

“Word for word,” Bucky said with a chuckle.

“I don't know what to say to that,” Steve said. Bucky could tell he was smiling, though. “But if she's open about that stuff, why aren't you two… I mean, you never held back before. If a dame was up for a good time, then you were more than willing to…”

“It's more than that. I'm afraid if I get any deeper with her then I'm gonna be real fucked up when I have to leave.”

“Who says you gotta leave?”

Bucky snorted and looked down at the ground between his feet. “I always gotta leave. You know I can't stay here forever.”

“Neither can she. It's just a rental and a temporary assignment,” Steve shot back.

“She's young, punk. Got a whole life to live. I'm not taking that away from her, making her hide from HYDRA with my sorry ass.”

“Maybe you should let her make that decision.”

“She's smart. She wouldn't choose me, so no need to even ask. Gotta protect what's left of my pride somehow.” Bucky cleared his throat and swallowed the emotion building up in his chest. “How’s everything in the real world?”

“You’re in the real world, Bucky. _She’s_ the real world.”

“She’s a fantasy that I can’t have. I’m talking about HYDRA and Wakanda. Russia. The World War that you and the team look like you’ve put a stop to.”

“I don’t know what the government is going to do. They’re talking sanctions against Russia. I think Russia is reeling because the HYDRA moles were good at their jobs. No one suspected. They’ve arrested two aides in the Russian Prime Minister’s office and he’s probably lost his job even though we don’t think he was a plant. The Russian President is doubling down and insisting that the deception was limited to the two people they arrested, even though evidence suggests otherwise. China is still fully backing him. I mean, we’re not on the brink of war, but we’re not exactly on friendly terms.” Steve sounded tired. Bucky would be too if he had to deal with all the bullshit that came out of politics.

“You did what you could, punk. Can’t make everyone get along on the playground.”

“Tony talked to a couple people he knows at the C.I.A. They’re pulling strings to see if we can get you off the most wanted list.”

Tony Stark helping out Bucky Barnes. Would wonders never cease. “That’s real nice, but it ain’t gonna help and you know it. HYDRA will track my ass to the ends of the earth. Getting a big, fat pardon from the U.S. government is only going to bring them closer to home. You think they can’t place their people in positions here like they did in Russia?”

“We’ll get you in witness protection. You can assume a new identity.”

“I can’t run from it, punk. This is my life now. It’s why I said I can’t have anything with Darcy. It’s not in the cards.”

“Buck, you deserve…”

“Don’t matter what I deserve. This is what I have.”

Steve sighed. “You’re a fucking martyr sometimes, you know that?”

Bucky laughed at his friend. “Hey, I told her you cuss once in awhile and she was shocked. She thinks you’re a boy scout.”

“Don’t ruin my reputation,” Steve replied, chuckling under his breath. “You sound like you’re in love with her.”

The comment made Bucky’s blood run cold. “No fucking way.” His voice was low and stern.

“Just sayin’, Buck. That’s what it sounds like.”

“Well, you heard wrong.”

“Where is she? Can I talk to her?”

“She’s inside. Smells like she’s making breakfast.” He looked at the closed door and hoped she hadn’t heard anything he’d said to Steve. “And you’re not talking to her.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ll open your big mouth and say something stupid like you just did now.”

“I wouldn’t rat you out like that,” Steve protested.

“I’ll give her a message for you. What do you wanna say?”

Steve sighed again. “I was gonna thank her for taking care of you. That’s all.”

“I’ll let her know. When are you pulling me out of hiding?”

“Maybe in a week. I don’t know where we stand with the Congressional sub-committee they named to oversee us. I’m not exactly on the best of terms with them after what happened with the Accords.”

A week. He’d have to leave her in a week, maybe longer if he was lucky. Seven fucking days of bliss before he had to go back to reality. His throat felt like it was closing up.

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**[9:56pm, May 9th, New Mexico]**

She liked to shower in the evenings after she’d finished her day. After her work was done. After they’d watched a movie or two at the height of the daytime heat in the dark, chilly air-conditioned living room with the shades drawn. After she’d prepared their dinner. After she’d tried to talk him into the hot tub again. He’d declined this evening. Two nights ago had been too close for comfort and he was still raw from Steve’s prodding phone call earlier. He wasn’t in love with her, but… But give it another week and he wouldn’t know up from down. Give it another week and he could be falling at her feet like some fucking dope in one of those romantic comedies that she laughed at with shining eyes. He needed to get off the fence. He needed to leave now or give in to her. He needed to leave now before it got worse.

He was lying in his bed with the door cracked as he listened to her move around the house. She’d just gotten out of the hot tub and if he held his breath, he could hear the sound of the towel against her skin. He closed his eyes and waited when he heard her bare feet against the hardwood floor of the living room. She passed by his door without a word and went into the bathroom. Bucky exhaled the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

The water turned on and then he heard the usual rustle of clothing. The sounds were familiar because he listened to them almost every night. They usually led to him locking the door and taking his cock into his hand as he imagined the way she’d feel if he was allowed to touch her. But not tonight. He was going to be strong and resist the temptation tonight. If only the serum hadn’t enhanced his hearing, then he could just tune out the way the water sounded against her flesh.

Exhaling sharply, he picked up the book he’d been trying to read for days and flipped to the page he’d dog-eared. That’s when he heard her shaky sigh and even shakier inhalation. His jaw tightened and he told himself he was imagining it. All he could hear was water pattering on her and the tiles.

Holding his breath and turning his focus back to the book, he heard a soft gasp and an even softer grunt. Was she… He closed the book and then closed his eyes. The sound of her uneven, shuddering breath was resounding. He clamped his jaw together so hard he was sure he’d break his teeth when he heard her breath hitch. She was definitely touching herself and she was definitely enjoying it. The sound of the water on her body shifted like she moved, and then he heard a dull thump. Her head against the tile of the shower stall, maybe? She moaned softly again.

He was already half hard and desperate for her. All he could see when he closed his eyes were her hands between her legs, one spreading her pussy lips while the middle finger of the other pressed into her heat before pulling out and spreading her wetness all over the clit that he knew would taste just like a hard, sweet candy in his mouth.

Bucky knew for a fact that she’d let him fuck her against the shower wall if he went in there. He suspected the door wasn’t even locked. A few seconds from now, a few feet away, he could be buried to the hilt in her perfect body. She’d make it so good for him. He knew she would. She’d be all soft curves and breathy sighs of his name and greedy hands clutching at his back and shoulders.

He’d pulled himself out of his pants without realizing it and was fisting his cock with the door cracked. With her only feet away fingering herself. Closing his eyes again, he spread the pre-cum leaking from the head of his cock down the shaft and imagined she was riding him. Her palms flat on his chest while she bounced up and down. He didn’t have to imagine what she’d sound like because he could hear her voice in the shower, gasping and moaning and grunting for him. That’s what she’d sound like if he were fucking up into her instead of his goddamn hand.

He came so hard it shot up as far as his chest. His jaw was aching from the tension he was holding in it. Her breathing was harder, shallower. She was close. Bucky wanted to go in there, drop to his knees, and eat her out until she screamed for him. Thinking of the way she’d smell was making his spent dick twitch again. He stayed right where he was and listened as she gave a final, harsh gasp. Another thump. Definitely the back of her head hitting the tile when she arched her body into the orgasm.

He thought about going in there and wrapping her in a clean towel, laying her in the middle of his bed while he dried every inch of her body, and then he looked down at the mess on his stomach and chest and felt disgusting. He wasn’t good enough to lay a fucking finger on her. Before she was able to recover and get out of the shower, he used a dirty shirt to clean himself up. He shut his door, turned out his light, and slipped under the covers. When she did emerge from the bathroom, he heard her stop in front of his door. He saw the shadow of her feet in the crack above the floor. Holding his breath, he waited her out. Finally, she turned and went back to her room. He should have felt relief, but instead it was just crushing disappointment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You lovely people are wonderful for saying such nice things and getting wrapped up in this fic with me. I've been living in it for the past four or five weeks while I was writing it. So thank you for reading and giving feedback and happiness.


	9. Chapter 9

> “We’re like good times that haven’t happened yet, but will.” - 40 Dogs (Bob Schneider)

**[6:14pm, May 10th, New Mexico]**

“Let’s do something fun.”

He looked up from the book he’d been trying to read for _days_. Thinking about her was all-consuming and it took five or six tries to comprehend a page of text. Bucky was sitting on the couch, the book in his lap. She had been out on the patio with her laptop. The sun was hot today, but the patio faced east and only got the worst of it in the mornings.

Now, though, she was standing in the doorway with one hip jutting out and a mischievous look in her blue eyes. He was done for, that wasn’t even a question.

“What do you want to do?” He wondered if she’d call in the favor that he’d promised her a few days ago.

“Let’s go for a ride.”

“I can’t leave the house. If I’m seen and my location is…”

Darcy waved a hand through the air, dismissing all of his concerns. “We’re not going to go to the mall, Bucky. Let’s just go for a drive. There’s this natural amphitheatre near here that is fucking amazing. You can’t leave without seeing it.”

“Someone will see _me_ ,” he protested.

“No one will see you. Wear a hat. And if someone sees, then we can be newlyweds on our honeymoon and suck face. I always wanted to do that.”

“Darcy, I don’t…”

She walked over to the kitchen and pulled open the fridge. He watched as she tossed a pack of turkey and some fresh provolone cheese from the deli on the counter. “I’m going to make sandwiches for a picnic and we’re going to have a good fucking time.”

“Okay.” What the hell was wrong with him? He couldn’t go out. But would he get to make out with her if someone saw them? She’d threatened it. She’d probably do it, too. The thought made his stomach flip over.

She gave him a big smile, teeth and all. And if he hadn’t already agreed to it, then he would have after that smile. Bucky watched her assemble two sandwiches, his with double the fixings. She tossed them into a canvas bag and threw an unopened bag of Cheetos on top. And then, carefully, she added four cans of Dr. Pepper, which she claimed was superior to Coca-Cola in all ways. Bucky disagreed, but he’d drink it if that’s what she wanted to bring.

He shut his book and pushed himself up from the sofa. She was already digging through the kitchen drawer for her car keys. Darcy was horrible with keys. He couldn’t believe the amount of times in the past two weeks she’d lost them, especially considering that she didn’t even use them that often.

“Gotcha!” she exclaimed, holding them up in victory. “Get your incognito hat and let’s go.”

He tried not to smile as he ducked into the bedroom and grabbed the baseball cap she’d bought him when he’d first arrived. It was gray with the name of the general store she frequented stitched across the front.

He was in a white short sleeve shirt and a pair of black athletic shorts. He almost changed into a long-sleeve shirt to make it more difficult to see that he was missing an arm, but her voice saying, “Move your fine ass, Barnes,” made him nix the idea and follow her out the door.

She settled in behind the wheel and cranked the air conditioner up to high to cut the stiflingly hot air. He was sweating already and he’d just dropped into the passenger seat of her low, black convertible. “This your car?”

“Hell, no,” she said, backing up and swinging the car around to descend the driveway. “It’s a rental. I told Jane I’d take this detail under three conditions. I get paid a shitload of money and they spring for a convertible while I’m here.”

She pulled out onto the side road that connected to the driveway. “What was the third condition?” he asked. The car smelled like her and it was distracting.

“That they drop off the hottest guy they could find within three weeks of my arrival,” she dead-panned.

Bucky looked over, one side of his mouth lifted in a grin. “Too bad they couldn’t meet your requirements.”

“Oh, they did. All three requirements were met and then some.”

He shook his head and looked out the window as they passed by the closest neighbor. He should feel nervous, worried, anxious. It was strange that all he felt was content that she was next to him and they were on their way to have a picnic in the middle of the desert. Sometimes all those concerns about his life seemed to melt away when he was around her.

“How far is this place?”

“About half an hour away. There’s a gorgeous lake closer, but it’s tourist central.”

“I’m not built for tourist central.”

“Yeah, me neither. I’d rather have the place to ourselves. The amphitheatre is just the ticket, especially this time of day. Everyone is probably getting ready for dinner.”

She was right; it only took them twenty-five minutes to get there. The flat landscape out this way was broken up by red outcroppings of rock, some right up on the road and others further away. The amphitheatre was back from the main drag, but not too far. There was a dirt road that allowed you to drive right up to it and park in a small, dusty, dirt lot. There didn’t appear to be anyone else around.

She jumped out of the car and grabbed the canvas bag from the back seat. Bucky got out and followed her. Darcy’s hips swung back and forth in those little navy blue shorts she had on. When she turned around to urge him to hurry up, his eyes moved up to her chest and he could see the blue polka dots on her bra through the tight white T-shirt she had on.

“Give me the bag,” he said, holding his hand out. She smiled and handed it over without a question. There was a brick path winding through a cluster of gnarled trees that looked ancient. The path broke off into a circle and in the middle of the circle was a single bench. He looked up at the rust-colored rock face towering above them. It curved inward at the top, the concave rock creeping into their view of the blue sky above.

The sun would be setting in an hour and the air was starting to cool off. She sat down on the bench and looked up at him with a smile on her face. “We got the place to ourselves, just like you wanted, but if someone comes along, then we totally gotta make out.”

Bucky laughed and stepped forward to stand beside the bench. “Only if someone comes along.” He handed her the bag and she unpacked it while he sat down next to her. Kicking his legs out in front of him, he relaxed and leaned back, stretching his arm over his head.

Darcy put a can of Dr. Pepper beside him next to his sandwich. He watched her as she pulled open the bag of Cheetos and leaned it against the back of the bench between them. He slowly unwrapped the sandwich, watching her all the while. Licking a smudge of brown mustard off her thumb, she said, “I’m shit at picnics. If I was Barefoot Contessa, I’d have a beautiful micro greens salad with a homemade vinaigrette and grilled chicken sandwiches on harvest wheat bread I made this morning.”

“It’s perfect, Darcy,” he told her, meaning every single word like he’d never meant anything before.

“I’ve been thinking about that favor you owe me,” she said before biting into her sandwich.

He took a bite of his own and then said, “Yeah? What do I owe you?”

“I can’t decide.”

“Better decide fast. Steve said they’re extracting me in a week or two.”

Her eyes dropped to the ground in front of them. “Yeah, I heard that.”

“Who’d you hear it from?”

“Steve called the burner this morning while you were in the shower.”

If that punk had said anything to her, he’d strangle Steve himself. “What else did he say?”

“That’s about it. That Tony made headway with the congressional committee. That they’re working on a deal for you. I think they’re trying to get you a new identity.”

“Yeah. I don’t think I want it.”

She looked over at him, her eyes wide and the corners of her mouth turned down in an almost-frown. “I thought that’s what you wanted. A normal life.”

“It’s what I want, but it’s not what I can have. They’re just pretending for me. I appreciate it, but it’s not realistic.” He devoured half the sandwich and ate a handful of Cheetos before she spoke up again.

“I hope you get what you want,” she told him. Her blue eyes were soft and sincere and made his heart ache.

He swallowed the emotion blocking up his throat. “I can’t have what I want, doll. But that’s okay. I’ve made peace with it.”

“What do you want?”

“I thought I told you what when we were talking in my bed one morning. To be happy.”

“What would make you happy?” she asked, her eyes so serious they made him uncomfortable. Darcy wasn’t serious. She was flirty and funny and flippant. Irreverent.

You, he wanted to say. You would make me so happy. “I don’t know,” was his verbal answer. His bald-faced fucking lie. “Are you happy?”

She glanced over at him and then looked up at the curving rock above them. “I am right now.”

“But in general.”

“That’s harder,” she replied. “Sometimes it’s easier to just find those moments when nothing is wrong and try to hold onto them.”

“And this is one of those moments?”

“Yeah. Don’t you think so?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, it is.”

“See. You’re happy. Right here, right now.”

He nodded again. “I am.”

“That’s something.” Her voice was soft and her eyes were far away. There was something going on in her head and he desperately wished he knew what it was. Was she thinking about him?

“Yeah, something,” he agreed. Something he thought he’d never be able to say. That he is happy right here and right now. Everything is perfect in this moment. The little bench sheltered by high walls of rusty rock, the spicy brown mustard mixing with tender turkey and soft bread, the bite of carbonation in the sugary-sweet soda, the quickly cooling air and subtle breeze across the hairs of his right arm. The woman sitting beside him. Most of all her. This moment wouldn’t be perfect if that wasn’t her sitting there next to him.

He thought about what Steve had said about her–that it sounded like he was in love with her. He didn’t know what love felt like, but he hadn’t felt this way for any of the girls all those years ago. In fairness, though, he was also a different person now.

“Eat more of these before I do,” she told him, interrupting his thoughts. She was holding a Cheeto in front of his face. He opened up his mouth and leaned forward to take the damn thing from between her index finger and thumb. She laughed at him and produced a second one that he also ate from her hand.

Her eyes were shining with humor and he wanted to kiss her so bad. Fuck. Maybe Steve was right. How did he let this happen? How could he have let this happen?

She opened a second can of soda and sat it down beside him because his was empty. How could it have _not_ happened? How could he be expected to play house with her and not feel this way about her? She was fucking perfect, a goddamn dream.

“Let’s go on a drive,” she said, balling up the bag her sandwich had been in and taking it and the empty soda cans over to a trash bin.

“Where to?” he asked.

“Wherever you wanna go. You can drive.”

“I don’t have a license,” he said.

She laughed and reached out a hand for him. Without a second thought, he lifted his right arm and took her hand in his. She leaned back and pulled him to his feet. “Who cares,” she said. “Let’s just have fun.”

“Okay.” Whatever she wanted was okay with him. He didn’t want to let go of her hand, but he couldn’t just stand there and hold it forever. Clearing his throat, he pulled away and grabbed his trash and the half-full bag of Cheetos off the bench. All of it got tossed in the can while she stood there on the brick pathway and twirled the keys to the car around her index finger.

She flashed him a grin and tossed the keys to him when he’d turned back to her. He caught them and followed her down the path. The shorts hit just a few inches below her gorgeous ass and he could swear she was putting a little extra swing her step just for him. He knew he was right when she turned around and flashed him a smile. Her hair swung into place, falling down her back, when she turned toward the car.

“Are you sure you want me to drive?” he asked.

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

He chuckled, stopped in front of the driver’s door, and hit the unlock button on the remote. She eagerly dropped down into the passenger seat and grinned as he slipped in behind the wheel.

“We need to put the top down,” she said, reaching up to pull a handle on the roof between them. She twisted it and rolled down the passenger window before leaning over him and hitting the button to roll down his window as well. All he could think about was how her tits were pressed up against his arm. “Push that one,” she said, pointing at a button just above the rearview mirror.

A simple press of it and the roof of the car was peeling away and stowing itself behind them. Bucky ran his hand over the leather steering wheel and took a moment to let himself look at all the controls. He hadn't driven anything other than a motorcycle in a long time. Sitting here behind the wheel felt surreal. And it also felt like freedom.

He looked over at Darcy, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. “Which way?” he asked before even turning the engine over.

“You're driving; you pick.”

“You don't want to go home?”

She smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling up. “I want to go wherever you want to go.”

She didn't mean it in any way other than their post-dinner drive—or at least he didn't think she did—but the way she said it with all that sincerity in her blue eyes made him want to believe the simple statement meant something bigger. It made him want to confess to everything. Confess that he'd been lusting after her since almost the moment he arrived. Confess that his ultimate fantasy starred her living in a little house in the middle of nowhere with him. Confess that he was afraid he was falling in love with her.

Bucky swallowed the massive lump in his throat and started the car. The engine revved to life and he adjusted his hand on the steering wheel. Slowly, carefully, he backed out of the makeshift parking spot and turned down the dirt road. When he got to the asphalt state road, he stopped and looked over at Darcy. “Which way?” he asked again. Right would take them back to the house. Left… wouldn’t.

“Your choice,” she said, watching him.

He closed his eyes. Which way? It had been a long time since he'd made a decision purely for himself or purely for enjoyment. Left, then. He pressed his foot down on the gas and kicked up dusty earth as he turned the wheel and pulled out. He had no idea where the road went, but that was okay because she was right next to him, grinning from ear to ear.

The car fishtailed a little when the treads couldn’t quite grip onto the loose dust of the road they were leaving, but once he hit the pavement, it was smooth sailing. Bucky dropped his foot down on the gas pedal and looked over at her. She’d pulled her phone out of her pocket and was fiddling with it. After a few seconds passed, she plugged it into the cord on the dash and started playing music.

The song was a mix of rock and pop with a little country. She turned the volume up so they could hear it over the sound of the wind whipping past them. Her beautiful brown hair was flying behind her and flipping around her face. He glanced over as she pulled a strand from between her lips and smiled at him. “How does it feel?” she asked, raising her voice.

“Amazing,” Bucky replied.

She gave him that wide, uninhibited smile that said she was happy for him. He returned it, feeling his lips peel back from his teeth so his smile was as big as hers, and then he turned his eyes back to the arrow-straight road in front of them. It went as far as he could see, all the way to the horizon, and he didn’t give a damn where it went as long as she was in his passenger seat.

He dragged his fingertips over the leather of the steering wheel, feeling the bumps of the stitching, smelling the clean, dry air of the desert, and also smelling that citrus scent from her. It was a body wash she used. He’d seen it in the shower they shared. Actually, he’d almost used it himself, but decided she might notice and think he was weird. He _was_ weird. He wanted his sheets to smell like her.

Glancing down at the speedometer, he saw that he was well over the seventy-mile-an-hour posted limit. He let up on the gas and heard her sweet laughter to his right.

“You’ve got a lead foot just like me,” she told him.

He laughed. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Hit the gas,” she replied.

Okay, he said in his head. Whatever she wanted. He anchored his heel into the floorboard and pressed the ball of his foot down on the pedal. The engine revved and the car jumped forward to the sound of more of her laughter. The speedometer was hovering at eighty-five and her hands were in the air, fingers stretched up to the darkening sky above them.

And he was so fucking happy in that moment that it hurt. Remember this, his brain kept repeating over and over again. Remember this so you’ll always have it. So no one can take it away from you. As bad as things will get in the future when he had to leave the house and her, he’d always be able to say that he’d had this. That he’d been utterly, joyfully happy in this second part of his life after all the damage HYDRA tried to inflict on him, after all the times they’d tried to twist him and break him. It was a revelation to realize that they hadn’t broken him after all. Just damaged him. Someone who was broken couldn’t feel so fucking good, couldn’t fall in love with a girl he barely knew.

Bucky knew the high couldn’t last forever and he’d come crashing back down when they walked into the house and this night was over, but he didn’t really want to think about that. He wanted to listen to songs and watch her hair fly out behind her like wild ribbons and press the gas pedal to the floorboard.

The soft thrum of the engine under the hood felt powerful and familiar. He drove west toward the setting sun, but he couldn’t possibly keep up and it eventually disappeared right in front of them. The sky quickly faded into a bruised blue and the temperature dropped. He wasn’t cold, but he wondered if she was. When he glanced over at her, she had her shoes off and her feet on the dash. Her head was tilted back and her eyes closed with a smile on her lips. Goddamn, she was beautiful. Bucky swallowed the words he wanted to say and blinked back the tears in his eyes as he focused on the road.

The gas gauge was dipping down to less than a quarter of a tank and his time with her was dwindling, both tonight and in general. “We’re almost out of gas, doll. I should turn around,” he said over the music.

She opened those blue eyes and looked over at him. “Stop and fill up the tank. You want to keep going, we can keep going.”

“You have work to do in the morning. It’s almost nine o’clock.”

“Work can wait. Jane will understand. I’m having the best time, and I don’t want it to end,” she replied.

“Okay.” There it was again. Okay. Whatever you want, Darcy. Since when was he so damn agreeable?

He pulled off the road at a small gas station that only had two pumps. While he filled up the car, she went inside and paid. He waited for her on the passenger side, leaning up against the door. It wasn’t until she came out that he realized he hadn’t even considered the attendant inside might have seen him. For some reason it didn’t seem important. This was like a dream.

She had a plastic bag swinging from her hand when she walked out the door. “You wanna drive?” he asked.

“No way,” she answered. “That’s your job.”

“What’s in the bag?”

“I’m hoping your favorite candy bar. What is it?” She stopped to stand in front of him. Her hair was wild and she looked happy.

“What do you have in the bag?”

“You first. What’s your favorite candy bar? And don’t tell me any of that weird old timey shit that they haven’t made for decades.”

He laughed and said, “Hershey’s Milk Chocolate.”

“With or without almonds?”

He looked up to the night sky in thought. “With.”

She reached into the bag, dug around for a moment, and then tossed him exactly what he’d asked for.

“Did you buy one of each?” he asked.

Darcy raised her brows. “Maybe.”

“Doll, you’re too much.”

“How far do you think this road goes?” she asked, moving to stand beside him, leaning against the car as well.

“No idea. But I really should get you home.”

“Stop being responsible,” she said. “Eat your candy and let’s go figure out where this ends.”

He knew where it ended. It ended right at his broken heart, but he’d pretend he didn’t know that at all. He used his teeth to rip open the wrapper on the chocolate bar and took a bite. It had been so long since he’d had one that he didn’t really remember what they tasted like when he was a kid, but this one was good. Sweet with crunchy almonds. She was chewing on a Snickers.

“Haven’t had one of those in forever either,” he said.

She looked down at the half eaten bar before peeling back the wrapper and lifting it up to his mouth. When he just looked down at her, she said, “Take a bite.”

“It’s yours,” he replied.

“I don’t have cooties. Take a bite.”

He opened his mouth and bit into the chocolate and nugent and caramel. The peanuts crunched between his teeth and it tasted so good, maybe in part because he was imagining he could taste her mouth on it as well. “I can’t let you share and not share back,” he said, holding up his chocolate bar.

Darcy smiled before tucking her hair behind her ear and biting into it. She licked her lips when she pulled back and he almost wrapped his arm around her, pulled her into his body, and kissed her until he couldn’t breathe. He’d regret that. He needed to stop or losing her would hurt so much more.

They finished their candy in silence and got back in the car after Bucky insisted on putting the roof back up. The temperature had dipped down into the lower sixties and she was just in a thin T-shirt and shorts. The wind from the highway would be too cold for her. She made some joke about him warming her up, but he brushed it off. It was just a joke.

When he pulled out of the parking lot, he turned right, taking them further from the house. Just a little longer and he’d let go of this. She started up the music again, but turned it down because the top was up and the car was quiet. He turned the headlights on and drove two more hours before the state road they’d been on ended at an intersection with another road. Ahead of them was rolling high desert landscape broken periodically by rusty rocks or clusters of trees. Nothing else was around but the pavement crumbling at the edges of their road.

“Guess we found the end,” Darcy said, her voice soft.

“Yeah,” Bucky said, his foot on the break and his heart heavy. “Let’s turn around and go home.”

She didn’t respond, but she didn’t tell him no. So, he pulled onto the perpendicular road and backed up so he could turn the car around. It took them a little over three hours to get home. Darcy made him eat another chocolate bar, and he somehow managed to do it and drive with one hand. And while he still loved guiding the purring car across the open road with her sitting next to him, he felt heavier on the way back. That high was fading fast and reality was starting to creep back in. He could already see how it would go when they pulled into the driveway. They’d go inside. He’d go to his bed and she’d go to hers, and he’d lie there alone and miss her like he was going to miss her in a week or two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved writing this chapter because I think it helped Bucky's soul heal a little bit. I tend to write while listening to music and almost always end up compiling a "soundtrack" of songs that either help shape the mood of the fic or help me keep a consistent mood throughout the piece. I've been including lyrics from some of those songs at the beginning of each chapter. One of the songs that I added to my list early on was "40 Dogs" by Bob Schneider. I'd loved the song and Bob Schneider for years, but had never seen the video. When I finally did see the video, everything just came together. Why? Kat Dennings is the lovely lady featured in it. You can see it [HERE ON YOUTUBE](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fWocd40OhXg).
> 
> And if you're curious, the song Darcy plays when Bucky starts out on their mini road trip is "40 Dogs".


	10. Chapter 10

**NOTE: I posted Chapter 9 earlier today.  If you haven't already, I suggest you go back and read it before continuing.**

 

> “I don’t know if you feel the same way as I do, but we could be together if we wanted to.” - Do I Wanna Know (Arctic Monkeys)

**[2:48am, May 11th, New Mexico]**

He cut the engine, and suddenly the driveway that had been lit by the yellow headlights was dark. The only illumination out here was from the moon and the small light on the porch by the door. It was nearly three o’clock in the morning, only a handful of hours before she usually got up and went through her work routine. He’d watched her out of the corner of his eye on the way back home while she’d texted Jane and told the woman she wouldn’t be sending the night’s data until later in the day.

When Bucky pulled the keys out of the ignition and rolled his head over to look at her, she sighed and said, “I’m so tired, but no regrets.”

“No regrets,” he agreed.

She looked over at him and he could barely make out the features on her face. For a moment he flashed back to that first night when she’d slipped into the backseat of that stolen vehicle. It felt like forever ago, but it was only a couple weeks back. He’d told Steve he didn’t want to stay here with her. He could see now that he’d been so wrong. He owed her his life in more ways than one.

Reluctantly, he opened the door and pushed himself up out of the driver’s seat. She was right behind him, shutting the passenger door with a thump and walking up the two steps to the porch. It took him three tries and a couple minutes to find the right key to unlock the door. She didn’t fuss over him, didn’t even offer to help. She just leaned against the wall and watched him. The weight of her gaze made him feel uncomfortable, exposed.

The house was quiet and all the lights were out with the exception of the one over the sink in the kitchen. He didn’t flip any switches on and she didn’t bother either. Darcy sat the bag of candy on the counter by the fridge. Everything felt awkward, like there was something she wanted to say and wouldn’t. He knew there was something he wanted to say, but he couldn’t seem to find the words.

Finally, Bucky walked into the living room and looked back over his shoulder at her in the kitchen. “Thanks for tonight. It was… the best time I’ve had in a very long time.”

She stepped around the kitchen island and stopped a few feet from him. “I want to call in my favor.”

Bucky turned around to face her fully. He’d forgotten about the favor she’d won from him a few nights ago. “Okay. What do you want?”

Her face was in shadow. He could only make out the tip of her nose and her full lower lip. “I want a kiss,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. The four words felt like a punch to his chest that knocked the breath out of him.

“What?”

She shifted her weight from one foot to another. “I want a kiss,” she repeated.

“Darcy, I… I don’t…” I don’t think I can give that to you and keep my sanity and heart, he wanted to say. He just couldn’t figure out how to make it come out of his mouth.

She took two steps toward him and he could see her face better now. She looked nervous. “Am I misreading this… between us?” she asked, using her index finger to alternate pointing back and forth between him and her.

“No,” he said. “No, you’re not. I just… My life is… It’s not something you want to get tangled up in.”

“You owe me a favor,” she insisted. “I want to collect.”

“Doll,” Bucky said, his shoulders sagging.

“That’s what I want. But it’s your choice.” She stood there looking so vulnerable when he’d never seen her that way before. She was confident and ballsy and fun, but right now she was looking like someone who wanted something so badly. Almost as badly as he wanted her. Almost. Because he wanted her so fucking bad.

She dropped her gaze and shook her head. “Nevermind. Let’s just forget I asked. Have a good…”

Maybe she would have wished him a good night, but he didn’t let her finish. Instead, he took two long, swift strides over to her and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her body flush against his. Her palms pressed against his chest and she inhaled sharply.

Bucky dropped his forehead to hers and tried to regulate his shallow, rapid breathing. She felt so good against him, soft and curvy and lush. His heart was pounding and his lips were less than an inch from hers. All it would take would be a tilt of his head and he could give her what she'd asked for.

Darcy lifted her chin, trying to make the kiss happen. The way she huffed out a harsh exhale of frustration made him smile. “Stop teasing me,” she whispered.

Bucky laughed softly under his breath before tilting his head and brushing his lips over her soft, plump ones. He hadn't kissed a dame since before he'd been deployed. That was a long enough time to forget how it worked, but when she lifted her chin and pressed her mouth firmly against his, everything fell back into place like it had just been yesterday. He parted his lips and let her take the lead, groaning in pleasure and surprise when she flicked her tongue out to glide over his. No sweet, gentle, tentative kisses from her. She was everything all at once. Without realizing what he was doing, he tightened his arm around her and slipped his knee between her thighs.

Fuck it. The past few hours had been perfect. She had been perfect. He wanted this. She asked for it. It wasn’t like they were fucking on the kitchen floor. It was just a kiss. Or a series of kisses that were making him feel like he was living the best dream he could ever have.

One of her hands was gripping his shoulder and the other was cupping the back of his head, buried in his hair. He leaned into Darcy and kissed her back, slipping his tongue into her hot mouth and swallowing her moan of pleasure. The thigh he'd worked between her legs was being shamelessly ridden. The movement of her hips and the way she was so receptive to letting him tongue fuck her mouth made his cock thicken until it was jutting against the loose athletic shorts. He knew she could feel every inch of him, but she still wasn't backing down.

He needed to pump the brakes before this went further. Those filthy fantasies about fucking her on every surface of the house came rolling back into this mind. Bucky dropped his forehead and pressed it against hers while he caught his breath and let her do the same. Darcy’s lips were wet and her breath puffed out against his chin and neck. She hadn’t let him go, still holding his shoulder and the back of his head.

“You don’t happen to have condoms, do you?” she whispered.

Fuck. White hot lust shot through his mind and then quickly cooled to vague despair. “No, doll. I didn’t mean for… this to happen.”

“Well, I’ve been meaning for it to happen for days now, but I felt like I might jinx myself if I bought ‘em before I got you to stop jerking off by yourself in your bedroom.”

He pulled back, removing his leg from between hers. Darcy’s hand felt like heaven sliding through his hair and settling on his other shoulder–the one that didn’t have an arm. “Wait, what?”

She laughed softly. “You’re louder than you think. Did you hear me in the bathroom last night?”

He felt like his world was being rearranged. Some covert assassin he was, thinking he was being slick and she didn’t know he wanted her so badly. She’d been aware of her starring role in his fantasies for _days_. “Was that a performance?” he asked.

“Mmm, hmm,” Darcy replied, stepping into him and sliding her arms over his shoulders. “Did you...?”

“Oh, I did. Right before you came. You came, didn’t you? That wasn’t just an act, was it?”

“I came so hard,” she whispered, her lips almost touching his as she leaned into him on her tip-toes. “Thinking of you, of how you’d feel,” Darcy added.

Bucky swallowed. He’d been so close to putting the brakes on this thing between them, but the way she was talking, murmuring about touching herself and imagining him, was putting him over the edge. He slipped his arm around her back again and kissed her hard and wet and demanding. She let him take the lead, tightening her arms around his neck.

When they pulled back to breathe again, she said, “You’re a super soldier like Cap so you don’t get diseases, right?”

“In theory,” he replied, wondering where exactly she was going with this. “Why?”

“I was just thinking… There’s two reasons to use condoms. STDs and pregnancy. So, if you’re disease-free… Are you shooting blanks or what?”

Bucky couldn’t believe these words were coming out of her mouth. Was she asking him if he could get her pregnant? “What?”

“I mean, you’re old, right? Do you know if…”

“Are you trying to figure out a way to justify no condom, doll?”

Darcy sighed and rolled her hips against his. “I want you,” she whispered in his ear.

He wanted her, too. Probably much worse than she wanted him. “I don’t know if I can have kids. They never did tests on… that. It’s not what I was for. I was for… killing.” He sighed deeply and his emotions dipped. One minute he was riding that high with every cell in his body intent on ripping her clothes off, and the next minute he was admitting that he didn’t know if he could have kids with her or not. Correction: didn’t know if he could have kids, period. With or without her. With anyone. But really just with _her_ because he only wanted her.

Darcy seemed to sense his mood shifting. “Hey,” she said, taking his face into her hands. “Where did you go just now?”

“I don’t know if I can have kids,” he whispered.

“Okay. So, no condom, no sex. Bummer, but no great tragedy.”

“It’s not that.”

Her lips parted when she realized what he was saying. He wasn’t lamenting that he couldn’t confirm his sterility. He was lamenting that he couldn’t be normal. “Bucky,” she whispered, caressing the line of his jaw with her fingertips. “What’d I tell you about normal? There’s no normal. There’s just life. You want kids someday, you’ll have kids. You want the picket fence that bad, you can have it.”

“But I can’t. This will never be over. There will always be someone to fight or something to run from.” He tried to pull away from her as reality crashed back into him and his lust cooled.

She wouldn’t let go of him, though. “You don't have to always be the one to sacrifice everything. You are allowed to do something for yourself, you know. I thought they were working on getting you a new identity.”

He gently pulled her left arm off his shoulder. “I told you it won't work. It's a nice thought, but it won't work. Clint tried to retire and he ended up captured and in jail because he couldn't stay away. You don't leave this life, doll.”

“Then make what you want work with the life.”

“You gonna follow me around, living inside a locked box because they'd use you against me? What kind of life is that for you?”

The grip of her right hand on his left shoulder slackened. “Me?”

It wasn't until she looked up at him with those big blue eyes and that slack-jawed expression that he realized what he'd said. He'd all but admitted to wanting a future with her. He felt ashamed of the fact that he had nothing to offer and irritated that she seemed so shocked that he'd want her. “Who else but you?”

He took a step back to put space between them, to give him room to think and compose himself. This was too much. He could handle a fist fight, but he couldn't handle her. She let him go and didn't say anything when he turned around to retreat to his bedroom. “Goodnight, doll,” he told her without looking over his shoulder. He didn’t want to see her either way–unhappy and longing for him or uncomfortable that he was throwing out ideas of them together when he wasn’t even sure if they were friends.

Not even bothering to close the door, he pulled off his shirt and pushed the shorts down to his ankles. His bed was unmade, so he fell into it and threw his arm over his eyes. He felt sick, like he’d just ended a relationship that had meant a hell of a lot. He could hear her moving through the dark, silent house, but he did his best to tune it out and not think about what she was doing and what she was thinking.

He couldn’t ignore her for long, though. A few minutes after he’d laid himself down, she was crawling into the other side of the bed. He moved his arm off his face to watch her lift the covers up and slip her bare legs underneath. She was a in a tiny pair of cotton shorts and a matching camisole.

“I want to sleep here,” she told him when she was settled onto her back and was looking up at his ceiling.

“Okay,”

After a long moment of silence, she said, “You’re stubborn.”

“I’m realistic,” Bucky replied.

“You’re presumptuous,” she added.

He laughed, but it sounded hollow just like he felt. “Presumptuous about what?”

“About what I would and would not be willing to do for you. To be with you.”

Her words made his stomach feel like it had dropped out of his body. “Don’t talk like that, Darcy. We barely know each other. We met two weeks ago.”

“Two weeks and two days,” she corrected.

“Oh, the two days make all the difference?”

“If one of them was today, then yeah. They do.”

He didn’t have anything to say to that. Not a goddamn thing because she was right. He’d never felt better or happier than he had this evening. It was unrealistic to think that it would all be like this, though. They couldn’t hide from the world and play house in northern New Mexico while they had picnics and car rides and sex up against the shower wall. “I can’t give you what you want.”

“What do I want?” she asked, turning onto her side to look at him. He’d rather she continue to stare at the ceiling because her steady gaze made him uncomfortable.

“What everyone wants,” he replied.

She sighed. “That’s not an answer.” Darcy lifted up and moved closer to him. “And,” she said, “I’m fucking offended by it. I don’t know where you’re getting your info, but I’m not everyone.”

Bucky chuckled and put his arm over his face again to hide from her. “Believe me, I know. You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met.”

“Then tell me what I want. Tell me what these things are you just can’t give me? Are you… are you talking about the kid thing?”

“Yeah, but that’s not all.”

“That’s not a dealbreaker for me. What else can’t you give me?”

“Security.”

“Didn’t you just take me outside and plan my escape route a few days ago?”

He shifted to his side to look at her. “Stop making this difficult,” he said. “We can’t do this.”

“You’re thinking too far ahead. Shit works itself out if it’s meant to be. You’re the one making things difficult.” She looked annoyed with him. There was a little fire in her eyes and bite in her voice that made him want her that much more. “Look at your epic friendship with Steve. You both end up getting a dose of the serum and frozen. And then you reject your programming–your orders–to save him when you meet again. And then you run off and he finds you in the middle of nowhere. That’s fucking crazy. That’s like movie shit. Like, meant-to-be.”

“I’m not dating Steve,” he said, his voice dry.

“Hmm,” she said with a smile. “I didn’t mean it that way, but it's a nice thought. You’re both hot as fuck.”

“Darcy,” he warned her.

She shifted over until her legs brushed against his and her hands could rest on his chest. “Okay, if I had to pick a favorite then it’d be you, but Steve is really pretty. What’s the other guy’s name? Sam?”

“Yes. And no, we’re not talking about Sam.” He felt the burn of jealousy even though it was ridiculous.

“He’s pretty hot, too. Which is saying something because you super soldiers are hard to compete with.”

He slipped his arm around her, rolling until she was on her back and he was over her. “Why are you in my bed and telling me about other men?”

“Because you’re being stupid and distracted me. You and Steve had all the odds stacked against you and you still found each other again. That’s meant to be. So, why don’t you just let this happen and see if it’s meant to be, too?” Her fingertips were tracing patterns on his bare chest.

He didn’t know how to tell her there was no such thing as fate; that it was all just random coincidence that brought him back to Steve or that brought him to this little house with her. He also didn’t know how to tell her that leaving her was already going to break his heart and that being able to have her would make it that much worse. He couldn’t open his mouth and say that to her, though.

Darcy shifted her hips and moved a hand to the back of his head. “Wanna make out?” she asked.

“I wanna do more than that, doll,” he said.

“Yeah, well, me too. No twenty-four-hour pharmacies in these parts, though. If there were, then you’d be inside me already.”

He groaned and let her pull him into a kiss that ended with his lower lip between her teeth. It inflamed his desire, made him want to rip her clothes off and fuck her, consequences be damned. “You and that filthy mouth,” he whispered when she let him go.

Chuckling, she said, “Filthy mind, too, but from the frequency of your wank sessions, I’m not the only one.”

“Hush about that. Can I make you come?” he asked, almost begged.

Darcy laughed, the sound music to his ears. “Are you fucking serious? I don’t think I need to dignify that with an answer.” She kissed him again, the hand on his head insistent and firm. He loved that she was aggressive and an active participant. He’d had women who just reclined back and tried to look pretty. Darcy would give as good as she got.

“With my mouth,” he clarified.

“I don’t know,” she said, defiance in her eyes. “Can you?” She was giving him a fucking challenge. “It’s been a while for you, hasn’t it? Sure you still know how lady-parts work?”

Bucky rolled off her and onto his side before he slipped his hand down the front of her cotton shorts and pressed two fingers into her pussy. The ragged gasp he ripped from her throat was one of the most satisfying things he’d ever heard. “I don’t know, doll. What do you think?” He curled his fingers to hit her g-spot.

Her hands flew down to clutch at his wrist. “Jesus, Bucky,” she said in a shaky voice. He was barely keeping his shit together because she was so wet and so tight. All he could think about was taking his cock in his hand and pushing into her heat, but he couldn’t do that. And even if he could, he wouldn’t. It would be crossing a line. He’d get her off with his hands and mouth and call it a night. It was a slippery slope and he was probably lying to himself, but he needed to draw the boundary line somewhere.

“Take off your shorts,” he whispered in her ear before kissing her, shoving his tongue deep into her mouth.

When he pulled back, she looked up at him with one of those smiles on her face that told him he was in trouble. “You think I'm gonna take pity on you because you only have one arm?” she asked.

Bucky opened his mouth and his fingers stilled inside her. What a little tease. “What did you say?”

“I said you want ‘em off then take ‘em off, hot stuff.”

She was flat on her back with his index and middle finger buried to the third knuckle inside her and she was still giving him attitude. Where the fuck had she been all his life? “You better shut that mouth of yours or I'll rip 'em off you, sweetheart.”

“You're all talk,” she shot back with a smile as she lifted her hips and flexed the walls of her pussy to get him to move.

Bucky couldn't back down from a challenge, and the shorts were thin cotton with seams up the sides. He pushed himself up to his knees and kicked the duvet into the floor. Darcy bent her legs at the knees and spread for him so he could get in between. Exactly where he wouldn't mind spending the rest of his life, right between those luscious thighs.

He trailed a finger down the valley between her tits, stopping at her belly button that was exposed by the bunched up shirt. Slowly, he moved his hand back up her torso, swallowing hard when he palmed one of her breasts, feeling the nipple pressing against the cotton. When he got back up to the neckline, he curled his fingers beneath the fabric and jerked his hand down. The shirt ripped right down the middle like a hot knife through butter.

Before he could get distracted by her chest, he grabbed the waist of her shorts on her right hip and ripped it down. She gasped when he moved quickly over to the other hip and ended up with the shorts in his hand.

“Oh, fuck me. I think I might have just come from how hot that was. I'm gonna have to taunt you more,” she said, lifting up on her elbows.

“You should be mad I ripped your clothes,” he said, looking down at the most perfect, round, beautiful tits he'd ever seen in his long life.

Darcy laughed. “You can rip all my clothes off every single day. Don't doubt that for a hot second, babe.”

She wasn't wearing panties and he could see the glistening of wetness on the triangle of dark curls at the apex of her thighs. Unable to process what she'd said or any reasonable reply, he pressed two fingers back inside her, watching them disappear into her before taking them out and licking her juices off them.

“Oh. My. God. I… You are too much. We should have done this two weeks ago,” she said, her face flushed.

“Agreed,” he whispered before dropping to his stomach, his legs hanging off the bed and his mouth only a couple scant inches from her delicious pussy. The musky scent of her was intoxicating as he pressed a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of her right thigh, then her left. Impatiently, she lifted her hips up, only to have him use his hand on her lower abdomen to hold her still while his shoulders spread her legs further.

Smiling to himself, Bucky ran the tip of his tongue along the crease where her thigh met that sweet pussy. “Stop teasing me, you motherfucker,” she said through labored breaths.

“Don't rush me, doll. Like you said, I forgot how it works.”

She grabbed a handful of his hair and tried to push his face between her legs, and he let her succeed because her neediness and the certainty that he was going to eat her out until she came all over his face made his dick so hard that he couldn't resist a damn thing.

Bucky opened his jaw and covered her slit with his mouth, running the very tip of his tongue all the way up to her hooded clit. That elicited a moan of pleasure from her. He tongued her, kissed her, sucked on the lips of her pussy between making swipes of his tongue over her engorged clit. Every trick in his book came back like he’d not spent decades without the taste of a woman on his tongue.

One of her little heels was digging into his lower back and she had a fistful of his hair clenched in the fingers of her left hand while the right hand was cupping her right breast. He slid his hand up from her abdomen to her left tit to give it a gentle squeeze and enjoy the weight of it in his palm.

Without his hand holding her hips in place she lifted them up, trying to work herself on his mouth, needy little noises falling out of her filthy mouth. “How am I doing, doll?” he asked, his lips brushing over her swollen clit. “Am I finding my way around?”

“Fuck _yes_ ,” she practically growled. “Don't stop, Bucky. Don’t stop. Please. Make me…”

He felt so drunk on the power of holding her pleasure like this. He felt like another man, the one he used to be a very long time ago. “Make you what, sweetheart? Make you come? Is that what you want?” He pinched her nipple between thumb and index finger, wishing he had his left hand so her could play her even better.

“Yesssssss.”

Taking his hand off her breast, he brought it down to dip two fingers into her, shallow at first and then deeper as her cries became more urgent and keening.

“Your mouth is a fucking national treasure, I swear to god,” she said through clenched teeth.

Bucky chuckled as he pressed his lips down on her clit and sucked on it, sliding his tongue up one side and down the other. That's what drove her the wildest. His dick was like a steel rod and he wanted nothing more than to push his boxers down and fill her up good and proper. But this was about her, not him.

“I want you to come all over my face, doll. Can you do that for me?” he whispered, twisting his fingers as they entered her. His palm was facing up and he curled his index and middle fingers toward him, feeling for the soft, ridged spot that would unravel her. He knew he found it when she sucked in a sharp inhale and bucked her hips. Using his left shoulder, he pushed her into the mattress so he could lick circles around her clit.

“I'm so close, Bucky,” she said. “So. Fucking. Close. Right there.” She moaned his name and whispered, “Right there,” again.

He repeated what had earned that plea from her, a firm press of his fingers as they rocked into her and the side of his tongue gliding over her clit just to the right.

Twice more and she was lifting her hips and breathing his name like a prayer as she came so hard her could feel the rush of wetness against his knuckles, the spasmic clenching of her tight little pussy around his fingers.

As she was gasping for breath like she’d just sprinted a hundred yard dash, he stilled his hand and gently pulled his fingers from her. Slowly and lovingly, he licked and kissed her with his parted lips, trying to memorize the way she tasted and smelled. Her hand was still loosely holding a handful of his hair and it felt so good—like he belonged to her.

“Where the fuck did you learn to do that?” she asked as he moved up her body, pressing kisses to her belly button and the valley between those perfect breasts. “You should be giving a masterclass to men on how to eat a girl out. Because holy fuck. I couldn't walk if my life depended on it right now.”

Her zealous praise and sense of humor about what they'd just done made him chuckle. He was already wishing he could bottle the way she smelled and tasted for a day in the future when she wouldn't just be right in the next room. For a day when he wouldn't even know where she was for her own protection.

“I might remember a thing or two from my youth,” he whispered against her left breast with a wide grin on his face.

She tightened that grip on his hair and said, “Come here,” in a low, sultry voice. Letting her direct him, he moved his face up until he was eye-to-eye with her, one leg between her thighs and the other knee pressed into the mattress along with the palm of his one and only hand that supported his upper body.

Darcy pulled him down for a long, lingering kiss, her tongue gliding over his before tracing the edges of his teeth. His cock was pressed against her thigh,11 and he knew she could feel him because he was still rock hard. Her juices were drying on his face and her tongue was deep in his mouth. Her little hand tried to wiggle down between them to touch him, but he blocked her by lowering his upper body and twisting his hips. The movement pressed him more firmly into the flesh of her shapely thigh, though.

“I want to touch you,” she whispered against his lips.

“No,” he whispered back, kissing her again so she couldn’t talk. She turned her head and let his mouth move across her cheek while the heels of her hands pressed insistently against his chest.

“Get off,” she said.

Bucky felt his heart drop into his stomach. She didn’t want him so close. Immediately, he rolled off of her and onto his back. The sheets were cool against his warm body. He reached down to adjust himself, wondering if she’d leave him and go back to her own bed. Darcy batted his hand away and wrapped the fingers of her right hand around his dick. Oh. She wanted him off her so she could touch him, and even though he’d told her that he didn’t want her to touch him, that didn’t mean shit when she had her fingers squeezing him just right. The only thing between them was his boxers.

“Fuck, you’re huge,” she said, working her hand inside the waistband of his underwear so she could touch him, skin on skin.

Bucky chuckled, feeling like some some high-quality painkiller was coursing through his blood, making it seem like everything was perfectly wonderful.

“Do you think we could break into the pharmacy? I’d leave a twenty on the counter for the condoms,” Darcy asked him. When he opened his eyes, she was slack-jawed with pupils blown wide. Dropping his gaze, he saw her fist moving up and down his shaft.

“Might have to pay for the broken window, too,” he said, grabbing the bed sheets in his hand.

“That’s a deal. What’s a window? Couple hundred bucks?”

“I don’t know. I can’t think with your hand on me, doll.”

“Well, you’re really not gonna be able to think with my mouth on you.”

Before her comment could cut through the blissful haze in his brain and he could make the connections to translate the sounds to words and actions, she had pulled the waist of his boxers down, straddled one of his knees, and guided the head of his cock into her mouth with her hand still wrapped around the base.

“Oh, fuck, doll. Sweetheart… that’s… I… _Fuck_.” Somehow his hand ended up buried in her silky, long tresses and his hips were lifted up off the mattress. She was enthusiastic, taking him in until he hit the back of her throat and then some. The flat of her tongue pressed up against the vein running underneath his cock and her lips were like a vice when she sucked him hard as she pulled back. Not letting the head leave her mouth, she repeated the stroke. Her head bobbed down and up, her fist twisting the slightest bit on the upstroke, and just the image of his cock disappearing between her sexy lips was enough to tighten his balls with an impending orgasm. “Darcy,” he warned, trying to pull her off him. “Doll, I’m…”

She let the head of his cock pop out of her mouth and licked her lips. “What are you?” she asked, teasing him like he remembered teasing her just a few moments earlier. “Are you bored?” She ran the tip of her tongue over his balls. “What are you, Bucky?” she asked sweetly, and then she had guided his cock into her wet, hot mouth again.

He didn’t even think he was capable of answering her. Instead, he tried to pull her away again, using his hand fisted in her soft hair. She wasn’t budging and he didn’t want to hurt her. “I’m coming,” he finally growled out, his hips tilting and every muscle in his body tensing up.

She sucked him just a little harder and he lost all control, spilling himself into her mouth. She moaned, not letting him go until his cock stopped jerking. What the fuck was wrong with men these days? What the fuck was wrong with that guy she’d had before she took the job in New Mexico? He should have followed her here. Bucky would have. She was sweet and kind, but was also smart and could take care of herself. She knew how to cook, and she knew how to have fun. She was gorgeous, and it sounded like she actually enjoyed sucking him until he couldn’t think straight.

Gently, she licked him clean and crawled up his body. Her right hand with bright red fingernails was rubbing across his chest. Bucky looked up to her face and saw that she was intently watching herself touch him, her gaze firmly on her own hand. He didn’t know what to say, but her camisole was only hanging onto her body by a thin strap on her shoulder. He hooked a finger around the strap and slipped it off. That got her attention and she looked up at his face.

“You okay?” she whispered, all soft voice and kind eyes.

His heart felt like it was swollen and beating too hard. Instead of answering her, he wrapped his arm around her waist and rolled her onto her back, peppering kisses down her neck and over her chest. Their legs were tangled together and her nails were tracing mysterious patterns on his shoulders and upper back. She felt so good beneath him, just like he’d imagined all those times. _Better_ than all those fantasies, actually.

“I’m better than okay,” he finally whispered in her ear.


	11. Chapter 11

> “Honey, when you kill the lights and kiss my eyes, I feel like a person for a moment of my life.” - To Be Alone (Hozier)

**[7:34am, May 11th, New Mexico]**

He woke to something slapping against his bare chest. Quickly sitting up, he reached a hand out and felt a slick cardboard box with sharp edges. Darcy was standing by the window on his side of the bed, pulling the curtains closed to shut out the morning sunlight. She was in a pair of jeans and his T-shirt that he’d pulled off last night before they’d ended up in his bed together.

The box was black with gold letters that spelled out Magnum in bold print. “What time is it? And what is this?” he asked, his mind tripping to catch up.

She pulled the curtains closed on the window looking out over the patio. The bedroom was dim, just a soft light from the edges of the fabric over the windows filtering into the room. He could hear the air conditioner running and the cool breeze from the vent.

“Seven-thirty,” she said, unbuttoning the jeans and shimmying out of them. Her panties were bright red and smaller than he was used to seeing on women back in his hey day. Bucky licked his lips as he watched her and thought about what she’d let him do–and what she’d done–last night. “And those,” she said, pointing at the box in his hand, “are the answer to my prayers.”

He looked closer at the box and realized they were condoms. “Darcy,” he said, “I don’t know if we should…”

“Shut up,” she told him. Darcy was crawling up the bed toward him and his shirt was so big on her that the neckline was hanging down, revealing her chest. She looked predatory and sexy and like she came straight out of his fantasies.

Okay, he almost said. Okay, he’d shut up. Okay, he’d just try to stay in this moment. Because it seemed like a really good moment, because his cock was already half-hard and he was naked underneath the sheet pooled in his lap. “There are twenty-four condoms in here,” he said, looking down at the box and then up at her as she kneeled between his legs.

“I know. I looked for a box with more, but that was the value pack,” she told him, the tone of her voice serious, but the corner of her mouth lifted in a smirk.

She took the box from him and slipped a finger underneath the cellophane to rip it off. The plastic crinkled as she tossed it onto the floor. “You’re very forward,” he said, watching her flip open the box.

“I’ve been told that before. I like to think that it’s just me knowing what I want.”

“What do you want?” he asked.

Darcy pulled a string of condoms out. They were connected together and could be torn apart at the perforations. “Uh, you.” She ripped the first square off and dropped the rest and the box in the floor by the bed.

Bucky felt like he was in an alternate world in which he got everything he wanted. A little house away from the fighting that was inhabited by a beautiful girl who he could talk to and who also wanted to screw his brains out at seven-thirty in the morning. “When did you get up?” he asked.

“About half an hour ago. I threw on some clothes and drove way over the speed limit to the pharmacy that opens at seven. Didn’t even brush my hair. Does it look like I had great sex last night?” She fluffed her tousled hair.

He smiled at her. “It does.”

“Must be because I did. It’s about to look like I had great sex this morning, too. That is, if you cooperate and don’t feed me all that bullshit about how you can’t give me what I want and blah, blah, blah.”

He shook his head and tried not to smile at her. “Guess it depends on what you want.”

“In general? You. Right now specifically? Your dick inside me,” she said, leaning in to kiss him.

“Okay,” he eagerly agreed before her mouth slanted over his.

She pulled back and winced. “Sorry about my morning breath.”

Bucky laughed and grabbed her, pulling her onto his lap and letting himself fall back onto the mattress. She landed on top of him, laughing as well. Her thigh was pressed right up against his erection that was almost at full attention by now. The way she was kissing him and the feel of her curvy body writhing up the length of his were shorting out his brain. The knowledge that she wanted him made him light-headed, or maybe all his blood had descended to his cock.

“I need you to take off this shirt before I rip it off,” he whispered in her ear. She shivered and wiggled until she was straddling his waist. Lifting up to kneel over him, she crossed her hands in front and grabbed the hem of the shirt, yanking it right over her head. The light from the edges of the drawn curtains allowed him a better view than he'd gotten last night. Her tits were more than a handful with dusky rose nipples that turned up slightly. “Come here,” he said.

She laughed. “Come where? I'm sitting on your stomach. I think I'm already here.”

“Down here,” he clarified, propping himself up with his arm so he could take one of her nipples in his mouth. She gasped as he flicked the tip of his tongue over it. And then she groaned and shifted her hips when he rubbed the edges of his front teeth over the distended nipple.

He sat up more fully so he could reach up and grab the edge of her panties with his fingers. Darcy giggled at the sound of them ripping down the seam on the side. He did the same with the other side and tossed them into the floor. She put a hand on his head when he moved to the other breast, giving it equal attention. “You're the best at this,” she said through heavy breaths. Bucky loved that she was so vocal, letting him know in no uncertain terms if she liked what he was doing.

“At what?” he asked, curious what she'd say.

“Making me feel amazing.”

Bucky pulled his mouth back from her chest and looked up into her eyes. He hadn't expected an answer like that. It felt like warm soup on a cold day, thawing his veins and chest. “Likewise, sweetheart,” he whispered, pulling her in for a lingering kiss that was more lips than tongue, more loving than lustful.

The springy triangle of neat curls covering her mound was distracting as it rubbed over the bare skin of his stomach. Bucky dropped down to lie flat on his back again and brought his hand up to slip just the tips of his fingers through the hair there. It was already glistening with her juices. “Stop teasing me,” she said, slapping his hand away and bringing the condom that he'd forgotten she had to her mouth. Biting the edge of the wrapper, she ripped the package open and pulled out the little rolled up disc.

Darcy reached back and grabbed his rock hard cock, pressing it down onto his abdomen so she could scoot herself past it. The movement dragged his length right across her dripping wet slit. On instinct, his hips kicked up to enter her, but the angle wasn't right. His head felt light and all he could think about was that in moments he could be inside her like all those times he’d imagined it. That she would let him inside her like this, much less _want_ him inside her, was making him feel like this was all a dream. He’d never dreamt in cryo, but maybe that’s what this was. It was something too good to be real. She was too good to be real.

Worrying her lower lip with her teeth, she took the base of his cock in her left hand and rolled the condom down over him. It was thinner than he remembered, and that was a heady feeling. No thick layer of latex between him and her pussy, just a barely-there barrier to protect her.

“How do you want me?” she asked, looking down at him with her blown pupils. If his cock could have gotten harder, it would have at her question.

“It don’t matter at all,” he said, swallowing that emotion building up in his throat again.

“The last time you thought about it… how was it?”

Oh, god. She was going to kill him. She was going to pull all those fantasies out of his head and make them reality and he was going to lose his mind. “You were riding me,” he said on a harsh exhale, all the words running together into one.

A corner of her mouth quirked up into a grin. “Okay,” she agreed, lifting her ass up off his thighs and moving a couple inches up his body until all it would take would be her hand holding him in place for him to push up into her.

“Okay? Just like that I get what I want?” he asked.

“Just like that. I’m easy, remember?” She wrapped her fingers around his cock and pointed him at the ceiling.

His head was buzzing and his entire body was on fire. “You’re gorgeous. Perfect. Everything,” he said, the words tumbling over his lips without much thought. All his focus was on the heat of her as she lifted up and lowered herself on him. His hand was holding tightly to her waist as she took him in until all he could see when he looked down at where his dick should be was her, and all he could feel was heat like he’d never felt and the vice-like grip of her walls surrounding him. Everything else in the world didn’t exist; it was only her.

“Oh, fuck,” she cursed, her chin dropping to her chest and her upper teeth pressing down into the plump flesh of her lower lip. Her hair fell in curtains on either side. She placed her palms on his chest for balance while she sat on him. Her tits hung close, but not nearly close enough for him to taste them.

“You feel so…” he whispered, running his hand down to her hip and then up to trace the curve at the small of her back.

“No, _you_ feel so,” she whispered, opening those eyes she’d been clenching shut.

She still hadn’t moved and as much as he wanted the friction, he didn’t want to push her. “I feel so what?” he murmured.

Darcy laughed softly under her breath. “My brain is scrambled. I can’t think of a better word for good. Like, better than good. Like…”

“Magnificent,” he tried. That wasn’t true, though. This was better than that. It was like being a kid in Brooklyn in the middle of winter and playing outside all day with your friends and then coming home to clean, warm clothes and a hot meal from someone who loved you. It was the best feeling in the fucking world.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Magnificent.” And then she moved, shifting her hips side to side before lifting up to expose a couple inches of his cock. When she settled back down on him, he realized that magnificent didn’t even come close to describing how she felt. Someone could have busted in the room and given him the worst news in the world and it would have been okay because she was there and he was so deep inside her and she felt like _home_.

Panicked tightness started to build in his chest and throat when that thought skittered across his brain. She was moving, rocking her body on him and the pleasure made it easier to suppress the feelings he was having for her. Inappropriate feelings of a life together that would require sacrifices from her that he wasn’t willing to ask her to make. Sacrifices that he doubted she would make if she knew him well enough. Because he wasn’t worth that much. He could make her smile, laugh, come. He could cook her breakfast, but he couldn’t give her much beyond that. Not a home or a family or a real relationship. Not if he was on the run or in hiding or fighting HYDRA with Steve and the others.

The long, elegant line of her neck sloping out into the creamy skin of her shoulders caught his gaze since her head was tilted back. Bucky dropped his eyes and focused on the mesmerizing sway of her tits as she bounced on him, working him faster. His hand was firmly on her hip where it started dipping into her waist. And while this had definitely been his fantasy and the reality was exceeding all expectations, she just wasn’t close enough.

Bucky grabbed her elbow and bent it out. She resisted him, but he was far stronger and it was easy to unlock her arm. Doing so, made her upper body drop onto him. Darcy caught herself with her hands on either side of his head, her eyes questioning him.

“I want to feel you,” he whispered, cupping the back of her head and lifting up to kiss her. She was moving again, her breasts rubbing against his chest and her tongue tangled with his, first in her mouth and then in his. He wanted to tell her everything he was feeling, but he couldn’t find the words. And it was dangerous to admit anything, to tell her what was running through his mind. This could just be sex. It _should_ just be sex.

Pressing a foot firmly into the mattress and wrapping his arm around her waist, he rolled them until she was on her back, his hips wedged between her thighs and his cock buried all the way inside her. One of her hands was gripping his shoulder and the other was pressed against his chest right over his heart. When he pulled out and pushed back in he realized he’d fucked up when he thought this position would be less intimate. It was _more_ intimate. His face was inches from hers, and he could see the soft pleasure in her eyes as she stared back, looking like she was just as lost as he was. She was supposed to be a little minx that wanted to take her pleasure from him. It wasn’t supposed to feel this deep.

Now that he had the upper hand and could control the pace, he started chasing his pleasure with firmer strokes into her body, and he could tell she liked what he was doing with her parted lips and blown pupils and soft groans of encouragement. The heel of one foot was pressed into his ass as if she could help him get closer, deeper. A flash of heat shot through him as he imagined lifting the leg and running his tongue up the arch of that foot until he got to her toes, which he would suck on with his greedy, longing mouth. She might slap him or push him off her if he did that without asking, though. He’d learned that not every woman was into letting him worship them like he wanted.

The fantasy was enough to edge him closer to orgasm, though. If only he had two arms like a normal man, he could play her like an instrument and make her come. “I want to feel you,” he whispered in her ear before dragging the edges of his teeth over her earlobe. Darcy shivered in his arms, her nails digging into his back, running down his arm, over his chest. Her hands were suddenly everywhere, even gripping his ass, urging him to thrust into her harder. “I want you to come all over me, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Can you do that for me?”

Darcy’s laugh was breathy. “Uh, huh,” she said, grabbing a handful of his hair and kissing him so hard their teeth clicked together for a moment. “Don’t stop,” she added. “I need you.” Her voice was dreamy and her words ran together, but he couldn’t mistake what she’d said. She needed him. That tightness in his chest was rivaling the tightness in his balls as he approached the precipice.

“You got me.” The words came out of his mouth, but he hadn’t meant to say them at all. They weren’t a lie; she did have him. She’d had him since that night she’d saved his miserable life, but he couldn’t mislead her into thinking this was more than it was. His heart had gotten the better of him and the realization made him falter, his hips missing a beat.

And then he felt her little hand between them. She was touching herself, rubbing her clit and then moving her hand down to let his cock slide through the V of her index and middle finger before it entered her. The change in sensation and added pressure made him groan and drop his forehead against hers. “You’re killing me,” he whispered.

Darcy looked up with her dark eyes and sank her teeth into the pink flesh of her lower lip. She looked like pure pleasure. A moment later she arched her back and snapped her eyes shut. The walls of her pussy clamped down on him once, twice, three times. Her mouth was open in a silent scream, and she looked like a fucking work of art as she came apart underneath of him, one hand on his shoulder and the other pressed tight between their bodies. Bucky was able to get in two more thrusts before he felt that surge of orgasm, that white hot electric heat that shot through him and dropped away after only three seconds. Three blissed out seconds that made him want to call Steve and tell him that he couldn’t come back. That he needed to stay here with her.

Reality didn’t take long to encroach again as he rolled off her and tried to slow his rapid breathing. She was doing the same, one delicate hand pressed against her chest that was rising and falling faster than his. Suddenly feeling uncomfortable, Bucky swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up to remove the condom. He dropped it into a little waste basket underneath the nightstand.

Bending over, he rested his forearm on his knee and tried to tell himself that it was a mistake. It didn’t _feel_ like a mistake, though. It had felt so fucking right.

Suddenly he felt her chest pressed up against his back and her arms around him, one over his shoulder and the other wrapped around his waist. “Might have been better than magnificent,” she whispered into his ear.

His lips twitched up into a smile and he looked over his shoulder to find her kneeling on the bed behind him, gloriously naked. Bucky lifted his arm and reached back to touch her cheek. She was smiling at him like she’d had the time of her life. It made the center of his chest tight and his heart pound harder.

“I don’t have to upload last night’s data until noon. Come back to bed,” she whispered into the shell of his ear. Bucky let her pull him back onto the mattress and settle the sheet over their bodies. When he was lying on his back, she scooted over and rested her head on his left shoulder. His gut reaction was to move her, to switch sides of the bed. Because he didn’t mind her resting her head on him, but not on that shoulder that ended abruptly in a stump. It felt obscene and wrong.

Before he could tell her to slide to the other side, she slipped her leg over his and molded her body right down his side. He watched her lightly touch his chest with the tips of her fingers, tracing circles and squares and wavy lines over his bare skin. Bucky closed his eyes and tried to stop thinking, tried to silence the voice in his head telling him that he wasn’t allowed to have her because he couldn’t give her any kind of worthwhile life. Even if he was just pretending right now, it felt so good to just make-believe that this could be his.

The clock on the wall said it was almost eight. There was a box of condoms scattered across the bedroom floor. The air conditioner vent over the door was blowing a stream of cool air into the room. He was on and under soft cotton sheets in a comfortable bed, and there was a gorgeous, sweet, funny, intelligent, caring, _naked_ woman wrapped around him, giving him goosebumps with her gentle fingers. A woman who had just pulled him back into bed and out of his own fucked up head after she’d wrecked him with, arguably, the best sex he’d ever had. Nothing was wrong; everything was right. He just wanted to pretend this could all be his for a day or two.

“You okay?” she whispered, turning her face into him and brushing her lips over his shoulder where the metal plating met his skin.

“I’m perfect, doll. Better than okay.”

“You’re quiet,” she replied.

“I’m happy,” he corrected. Saying it out loud like that without any qualifiers made his sinuses burn with the threat of tears. He’d spent a long time believing for a certainty that he’d never be able to feel this way.

“See,” she said, pinching his nipple. “You can be happy after all. Just have to make those happy moments and hang onto them.”

“You make them, not me.”

“Takes two to tango,” she told him. “I can’t do this on my own. I believe you were a very willing participant.”

Bucky chuckled. “I was.” Shaking his head, he said, “I wouldn’t have believed it if someone had told me that night I got here and you jumped in the Durango with me to see if I was an asshole… I wouldn’t have believed that I’d be right here, right now, with you.”

“Yeah, well, I see something I like, I move fast.”

“I have no idea what you see in me, doll.”

She pinched his nipple again, this time hard enough to make him flinch. “So, first the obvious. Your lips, your eyes, your hair. Your chest, your thighs, your ass. And all the others parts while I’m at it. And by other parts, I definitely mean your dick.”

He laughed softly and reached his right hand over to push her hair back from her face so he could look down and see her expression better.

“Your sense of humor. Your bravery. Your loyalty. Your strength and perseverance,” she continued.

“I’ll buy sense of humor, but how would you know if I have any of those other qualities?”

“Your file,” she said, simply.

He was taken aback by the answer. “My file?”

“Sure,” she said. “The one your buddies showed me. I can read between the lines. But you know what I like best of all?”

“What?” he asked, looking down into her upturned face resting on his mangled shoulder.

“That you make me feel good. We have fun when you can let go enough to have fun. Last night? That was the best. I want that in my life, like, every day.”

Bucky tried to swallow the lump in his throat and eke out a smile. “You want to drive a few hundred miles after dinner every day?”

She pinched his nipple again and he jerked his hand up to cover her fingers. “No,” she said, “not literally. Don’t act like you don’t know what I mean. I want someone I can be myself with.”

“Your boyfriend–the one you broke up with–weren’t you like this with him?”

Darcy snorted. “ _Ex_ -boyfriend, and no way. He’d never agree to a picnic or to go on a drive to the middle of nowhere. He wanted routine and dinner at seven in front of the TV. In bed by eleven o’clock every night. Only missionary and maybe he’d consider giving me a little tongue action on my birthday.”

He frowned at what she was saying. What was wrong with that guy? She was colorful and vibrant and _alive_ and that dumb asshole had tried to strip away everything that Bucky found desirable. Bucky had assumed the person she was while she was with him was the person she was with everyone. She just seemed like a force of nature that bent everyone to her will, and he almost told her as much when he said, “I just thought this was you, and you were like this with everyone.”

“This _is_ me, and I am like this with my friends. Well, not _exactly_ like this. I mean, I don’t run out at seven in the morning to buy a value-size box of condoms because I have a burning need for them to screw my brains out. I just never found a guy who could keep up or who wanted me like this. I’m… extra, apparently.”

“You’re just right,” he assured her.

“And you’re sweet-talking your way into another blow job,” she replied.

Bucky almost choked at the matter-of-fact way she dropped that little bit of knowledge. When he looked down at her again, she was grinning. “You’re unbelievable,” he said, still hoping that what she said was true.

“You love it,” she teased, wiggling her hand out from under his and sliding the tip of her index finger down the center of his chest until she hit the sheet cutting across his waist.

“I do,” he admitted.

“Will you tell me about what happened before you came here?” she asked after a long moment of content silence.

“What do you mean? Right before or everything?”

She pressed her hand over the center of his chest. “Right before, but I’m up for everything if that’s what you want to tell me.”

It was a bit shocking to realize that he didn't mind telling her whatever she wanted to know. She already knew so much and still treated him like a human being. “I asked them to put me back in cryostasis in Wakanda a couple years back. Right after Steve found me in Bucharest.”

There went her fingers, tracing nonsense patterns on his skin again. He could die a happy death like this. “Why?” she asked.

“HYDRA has programming hidden in my head. Seeing Steve and fighting him years back in D.C. allowed me to escape because it damaged the hypnotic state they had me in. But… but if someone knows the trigger words and reads them in the right sequence then my brain shuts off and I just follow their orders.”

“Steve said you eventually pull yourself out of it.”

“Not immediately. Did a lot of damage the last time before Steve captured me and gave me time to find myself again.”

Darcy moved her hand up to curl over his right shoulder, giving the muscle there a squeeze before tapping her fingertips along his collarbone. “So, you were on ice in Wakanda.”

He closed his eyes and focused on her hand, wishing he had a left one to trail up and down her smooth back. “Mmm, yes. And I woke up on the floor during the first Russian attack. T’Challa got me to the roof where Steve picked me up in the Avengers jet.”

“Were you scared?”

“I was disgusted with myself.”

“Because you were blaming yourself?”

“Yeah.”

She stretched up and placed a lingering kiss on his cheek before settling her head back on the metal shoulder.

Bucky sighed as his heart ached. “We went to a safehouse of Stark's in Tennessee, and they discussed what to do with me.”

“What to do with you?”

“Where to hide me,” he explained.

“Sam said you were suicidal then.”

He kept his eyes shut tight. “I was. I almost used that gun in front of all of them. I wanted to die, for it to be over. I was a fuck up and a burden who had tried to kill more than one person in that room.”

She stretched again and placed a kiss on his jaw and the corner of his mouth. “You're not a burden,” she whispered softly in his ear. It was a balm to his soul.

“Stark showed up with Thor and Thor told them about you.”

“What did you think at that time?”

“I was outside puking up nothing from my empty stomach,” he admitted, “but when I went back in, I told them I wasn't coming here and to drop me off at plan B.”

“Was that the place in northern Canada?”

“Yeah. I… didn't want to be around you.”

She laughed softly and ran her fingers through his hair. “I got the impression you hated me that night we met.”

“I didn't hate you. Just… didn't know how to be around you.”

“You figured it out real fast,” she told him.

“What did you think of me?” He opened his eyes and looked down at her all snuggled up against him.

She sighed. “When I first met you? That you were unhappy and prickly. The next day? That you were sad and had been used, and I wanted to make you feel better, but I didn't know how so I thought I'd give you space.”

“And when you stopped me that night?” he asked.

She didn't answer right away. Instead, she drew lazy figure eights across his chest. Finally, she said, “That you were hurt and lost in your own head. That you needed someone to be your friend.”

“Are you my friend?”

She looked up and locked her gaze with his. “Of course, but we're a little more than that, I think. I usually don't have sex with my friends.”

“So what are we?”

“Bucky and Darcy,” she said before stretching up a third time and kissing his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little over halfway through the fic! Woo! I hope everyone is still enjoying Bucky/Darcy time. Thank you all for the happy notes and pats on the head. This writer is grateful.
> 
> Also, thank you again to [ChocolateGate](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cocosmama/pseuds/ChocolateGate) and [Bulmaveg_Otaku](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Bulmaveg_Otaku) for being awesome people and helping refine this fic to make it better while still being cheerleaders.


	12. Chapter 12

> “But you don’t know what hell you put me through. To have someone kiss the skin that crawls from you. To feel your weight in arms I thought I’d never use.” - To Be Alone (Hozier)

**[8:13pm, May 12th, New Mexico]**

He spent the day hyper-aware of her body and where it was in relation to his. Not that this was anything new; he’d been obsessing over her since he arrived, but now he knew what kind of pleasure was just a few feet away. After nodding off in bed that morning, they’d gotten up just before noon and made sandwiches in the kitchen for lunch.

She spent the afternoon hunched over her computer, sending and combing through data with Jane and having what sounded like an intense conversation with the other woman on a cell phone in the driveway. He wondered if they were talking about him. He suspected they were, but Darcy didn’t say anything when she came back inside. She was all smiles and mischievous eyes, suggesting they get pizza for dinner. She even talked him into driving her down the road to the restaurant and waiting in the car while she picked up the food.

It smelled good and tasted better, but it didn’t hold a candle to an authentic pizza shop in Brooklyn. The crust was too thick and the cheese wasn’t quite right, but it was good and he got to sit on the couch and eat it with her while they watched a comedy movie. The movie ended just after eight o’clock with his arm around her shoulders. All he could think about was what would come next. The box of condoms was still scattered on his bedroom floor, ready to be used. Was she waiting on him to make the first move?

Just as he worked up the nerve to lean in and try to kiss her, she jumped up and flipped the television off. “Hot tub,” she told him, spinning around and walking into her bedroom. He felt a mixture of anticipation and disappointment. He’d rather go to bed and have her naked than slip into the hot tub and dream about taking her bikini off. But if that’s what she wanted, then he’d go along.

He changed into his trunks and beat her out onto the patio. She joined him as he was turning the motor on to start heating the water. She was in the black suit–the one that was barely big enough for her. The muscles in his fingers flexed when he thought about holding her, and he gave her a smile that was probably strained.

As if sensing his discomfort, she walked right up and slipped her arms around his neck. Slowly, she dropped little kisses along his jawline and chin. “What’s wrong?” she whispered when her mouth was at his ear.

“I don’t know what to do,” he admitted.

“Do now or do later or what?”

“Now. I… I don’t know what you want from me.”

She pulled back, her hands firmly on his shoulders, but her tits still pressed into his chest. “I want you to do what you feel like doing.”

Bucky huffed out a short, breathy laugh. “Doll, I think you know what I want to do.”

Raising her brows, a smile growing on her face, she said, “Oh yeah? So, do it.”

He looked down at her and saw the lift of one corner of her mouth and the challenge in her eyes. Bucky raised his hand and laid it against the middle of her back, sliding up until he found the string of her top. He pulled on it and the knot unraveled. She dropped her gaze to the scant space between them and then looked up at him through her long lashes as she reached behind her neck and pulled the other string loose. Her top fell to the concrete pad under their feet.

“Hot tub or bed?” she asked him when he bent over and covered one of her nipples with his mouth.

“Hot tub,” he said, his lips still on her perfect tit. “You want the hot tub.”

“I want you,” she whispered, running her fingers through his hair. “In the hot tub,” she added with a cheeky little grin.

Bucky chuckled and grabbed her around the waist, lifting her off her feet and swinging her up onto the second step. She settled into the water, her bare breasts still halfway visible. Watching him with those knowing blue eyes, she smiled as he sat down across from her. His cock was at half-mast and it wouldn’t take much for him to get all the way there.

She stretched out a leg and ran her foot up the inside of his thigh. “So,” she said, “since you’ve got a foot thing, why don’t you rub my feet? Win, win, right? I get the best foot rub ever and you get…”

“A painful boner and frustration?” he asked, good humor spilling over into his words.

“Frustration? No way. You know I’m all about taking care of you,” she said with a wink. He felt her toes slide up his thigh until she brushed his cock through the fabric of his swimming trunks.

Bucky reached down and held her foot there so his shaft was pressed tight against the arch of her foot. “You’re playing with fire, sweetheart.”

“Oh? I thought I was playing with your dick.”

He tilted his head back and laughed, but kept her foot right up against him, using his grip to rock it back and forth. Darcy stretched her arms out along the edge of the tub and kicked her other leg up to press the sole of it right where the metal met his skin on his chest. He looked from her wet toes with bright red nails to her face. She knew exactly what she was doing.

Not breaking eye contact with her, he bent his head and flicked his tongue out to run along the tops of her toes. Her lips parted just the slightest bit when he took her big toe between his lips.

Now he was so hard that he didn’t think he could stand up. His hips were rocking into her foot on his crotch, and he was embarrassingly close to coming in his trunks.

“That’s so fucking hot,” she said, her eyes on his mouth. “I did not expect that to get my motor running.”

He pulled his lips away and chuckled, moving his hand up to the foot by his mouth, holding it in front of him so he could run the flat of his tongue from her heel to where the ball of her foot curved into her toes, and then he took three of her toes into his mouth, licking and sucking them like he’d done to her pussy the previous night. Her confession and gasps of pleasure were liberating because they told him that she didn’t mind indulging his fantasies. _All_ of his fantasies, or at least the sexual ones.

She rubbed her foot up and down the length of his cock. That, combined with her toes in his mouth, were going to put him past the tipping point at any moment, and Bucky really wanted to experience being inside her again. Pushing her feet away, he stood and wrapped his arm around her to drag her up his body. He kissed away her gasp of surprise, taking her mouth with his tongue and feeling like he was running the show for once. He was the one moving this forward and she was the one tripping to catch up.

“I’d put you up on the edge of this tub and take you right here if I had a condom,” he whispered against her lips while they were both sucking in air.

She laughed, all breathless and sexy, the ends of her hair wet and her body covered in little water droplets. “I’ll have to hide them in strategic locations, because I’ve got some ideas, you know.”

“Oh yeah?” he spun her around and gave her a gentle push to get out of the tub. Her ass looked fantastic in those skimpy bikini bottoms, the dark fabric making her pale skin glow. “What are those ideas?”

“You and me. In the shower. Against the front door. On the kitchen counter. On the couch. On the hood of the car. You know, the usual places.” She looked over her shoulder at him as he stepped out of the water. When he moved toward her, she giggled and hurried inside.

He made a quick adjustment of his dick so he could walk without limping and followed her inside. She was sitting on the edge of his bed with the corner of a condom wrapper held between her teeth. She was still dripping wet and topless and looking like she wanted to give him anything he asked for.

Stepping between her knees, he pulled her bottoms off before shoving his waterlogged trunks to the floor. He wasn’t in the mood for foreplay and he hoped she was on the same page when he grabbed a pillow from the head of the bed and pushed her back. She laughed, and it sounded giddy. Bucky shoved the pillow under her hips and stepped between her legs, lining his cock up. “Doll?” he asked.

She held the condom up, and he snatched it from her fingers. Ripping the wrapper with his teeth, he rolled it up his length and dipped a finger into her to see if she could take him. Darcy was dripping wet and not from the hot tub. The knowledge that he excited her like that made him light-headed. With his hand wrapped around the base of his cock, he watched himself slide up inside her, mesmerized by the way her pussy opened for him and then wrapped around his shaft like a glove.

“Oh, fuck, that’s good,” she groaned, arching her back and clenching her muscles.

“Yeah?” he whispered, watching her breasts sway as he pulled out and pushed back in now.

“Yeah. Fuck, yeah.”

He wrapped one of her legs around his waist and the other he extended up, letting the back of her calf press against his chest so her foot was right in front of his face. “You drive me crazy,” he told her before turning her foot out and licking up the outside of it, tonguing her pinky toe and then moving back down to gently press his teeth into the flesh just below it.

“Your mouth on my foot feels so…”

She didn’t finish her sentence, so he finished it for her. “Naughty.”

Darcy laughed softly, but it turned into a moan and he snapped his hips into hers a little harder. “Yeah,” she agreed. “Or like you’re worshipping me.”

“I am, doll. I am. Every fucking inch of you.”

He was close. So close. Sucking on her toes like he was tongue-fucking her foot and her moans and her gasps and her tight pussy squeezing his cock like she was going to milk him dry. It was all coalescing into a massive impending orgasm that threatened to buckle his knees, and the one thing that would send him over the edge was making her come all over him.

Bucky let go of her foot, but kept her big toe in his mouth. Swiping his thumb over his cock as it left her, he gathered up some of her nectar. Instead of doing what he really wanted, which was to lick it off the pad of his thumb and savor the taste of her pussy, he pressed against her clit. She was wet all over, soaked, and it made him feel like a man again, knowing that he could get her this hot without even trying that hard. His thumb slipped over the swollen nub, but he slid it right back up to work her over. Her face was flushed and her chest was heaving within seconds.

“Goddamn,” she sworn between labored breaths. “Don’t you dare stop. I’m… so close.”

He sped up a little, came at her slightly harder, and she unraveled right in front of him. Her head with her flushed face tilted back until all he could see was the elegant line of her pale neck. Right below that were her generous tits with rosy, pebbled nipples arched up into the air like they were begging for his mouth. And then there was the dark triangle of hair, obscured by his hand as he rubbed her through the orgasm. The muscles in the walls of her pussy were clamped down on him, making his thrusts more intense, and, while her orgasm seemed to go on for so many long seconds–ten, fifteen, twenty–his was like an intense shot of electricity that made him feel like a fucking god for just a fleeting three seconds. But they were the best three seconds.

Bucky popped her toe out of his mouth and looked down at her as she recovered with an arm thrown over her eyes.

“You okay?” he asked with a smile on his face.

She pulled her arm away from her face. “Better than okay. You’re a damn blessing. I’ve never come that hard in my life.”

Bucky felt giddy and blissful and absolutely wiped out. Laughing, he leaned over, using his hand on the bed to hover over her. He placed open-mouthed kisses up the column of her neck while he was still very much inside of her, and then he lowered himself so they were chest-to-chest and he could reach down to hold the condom while he pulled out. Darcy sighed softly at his absence, and the little noise she’d probably thought nothing of made him feel so overwhelmingly possessive of her that he thought about taking her again after he’d recovered. He didn’t want to overwhelm her, though. He wasn’t exactly small, and he hadn’t been overly gentle just now.

Darcy pushed him up off her with surprising strength and sat up to remove the condom. He watched in wonder as she tied it up and turned to crawl across the bed and toss it in the garbage basket. “Come to bed,” she said, gracelessly flopping down onto his side of the mattress. Bucky didn’t have to be told twice, especially when he’d realized she was on his right side now. The side with an arm that could hold her; the side with real, flesh fingers that could trace across her skin like she’d done to him this morning.

He crawled over and kissed her before dropping down to the mattress and pulling her into his body. She molded around him, her head on his shoulder and her leg bent and thrown up across his thighs. Bucky kissed her again, this one gentle and only a press of his lips on hers.

“You’ll tell me if you don’t want this, right?”

She looked up at him, her brows furrowed. “Don’t want what?”

“Sex. With me.”

She dissolved into laughter, her whole body shaking against his. “Bucky, I think you should just assume that I want sex with you every single time it crosses your mind.”

“I don’t think so,” he told her. “It’s all I was thinking about today.”

“Join the club, babe. All I was thinking about during that movie was rolling off the couch and trying to give you the best blow job you’ve ever experienced while you finished the movie.”

Her words were stirring his arousal again. The idea that she had been sitting there next to him for almost two hours, thinking about sucking his cock made him want to roll her over on her back and take her again. “You’re going to kill me,” he said, running his fingers up her spine and burying them in her long hair.

“Mmm, but it’ll feel so good,” she whispered, looking up so he could pull her in for a long, lingering kiss with tongues and teeth and wet lips.

///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\

**[7:51pm, May 13th, New Mexico]**

Bucky had never felt so satisfied in his life. That morning he’d woken before her and stirred her from sleep as he bent her knees and settled himself between them  
After he'd licked and sucked her until she’d come, he’d blindly reached out and plucked a condom off the floor. Within minutes of waking, he’d buried himself deep inside her willing body. While she’d checked up on the satellites, he’d made them breakfast–eggs, bacon, and croissants that came from a can and were difficult to assemble with one hand. She’d actually helped him when she came back inside.

When she’d taken a break from her work around noon, he’d cornered her in the bathroom and talked her into a shower together. They’d both been more than twenty-four hours without one at that point. She’d laughed and happily stepped into the spray of water, running her hands all over his body before kneeling before him and sucking him off like he’d never experienced before–with enthusiasm and pleasure, those blue eyes looking up at him while his shaft disappeared between her pink lips. He’d insisted on staying in the shower until the water cooled and he got hard again so he could fuck her against the wall, licking water off her collarbone.

They’d just finished eating baked pasta and garlic bread for dinner and were on the couch with the television playing a movie and the sound turned low. Darcy was on her back with her head on his lap. Bucky was trying very hard not to get excited over the perfect view down the neckline of her shirt. He didn’t need to be poking her in the head with his cock.

“How did you meet Steve?” she asked, breaking the comfortable silence they’d fallen into.

Bucky smiled down at her as he trailed his fingers through her hair. “He was getting beat up by a group of guys, and I stepped in.”

“Obviously before the serum, then.”

“Yeah, we were just kids–maybe twelve or thirteen.”

“You’ve been friends that long?”

“Yeah, all through growing up and the War and… up until I fell off the train.”

“You almost died then, didn’t you?”

“Almost,” he agreed, watching his fingers slide through her soft hair. “You been in any messes since you met Thor?”

“Uh, _yeah_ ,” she said. “I mean, I didn’t lose an arm or anything, but it was intense shit.”

He couldn’t help but smile at her lack of a filter. The way she approached things, treating him like he wasn’t broken, made him feel good. “What kind of intense shit?”

“Dark elves. They’re not very friendly.”

“How’d you get to safety?”

Darcy arched her back and stretched her arms up. He ran his fingertips down the inside of the arm closest to him while she said, “Some crazy lizard on steroids popped through the portal the bad dudes were using and killed them. As tall, blonde, and muscled would say, it was fortuitous.”

There was that little twinge of jealousy, possessiveness. It made him uncomfortable. “There you go again, telling me about other men,” he said, trying to make the statement light-hearted and joking, but it never quite got there.

“You jelly?”

“Jelly?”

She smiled up at him. “Jealous.”

“No,” he replied, shifting his gaze away.

“You sure?” she asked, raising her brows. “Because I’d be so jealous if you were telling me about some hot chick you met.”

“Okay, maybe a little jealous,” he said.

“Thor’s like my brother, and you’re my favorite.”

He let the back of his hand graze over the breast closest to him. “Your favorite what?”

“Person.”

His heart thumped hard against his ribs and then felt like it dropped down into his stomach. “I can’t be your favorite person.”

“Sure you can,” she said, lifting her hand and running her fingertips over the stubble on his chin. He leaned into her touch and closed his eyes, willing his brain not to think about it. Not to believe her. Not to think about how it was going to feel to leave her. Not to think about the first morning he would wake up and not find her there. Because it had only been two days, and it already felt like a lifetime.

“What’s going to happen when I leave here, Darcy?” he asked.

She dropped her hand and sighed. “Whatever you want.”

“Not whatever I want, sweetheart. My life isn’t my own.”

She was silent a long moment, her gaze on the far wall. Finally, she said, “Just stay here,” in a soft voice.

“The longer I’m here, the longer you’re in danger.”

“I don’t care about being in danger. I care about y…”

“Don’t,” he warned her. “Don’t say that.”

She sat up and turned toward him. “Why? If it’s true, why not?”

“Because I can’t take it,” he answered honestly.

“Because you can’t repeat it?” she asked, a challenge in her voice.

“Because I _can_ repeat it, and would if things were different.”

She shrugged. “So make them different. What can we do?” It was in moments like these that he realized how young and naive she was. To her, you could fix anything if you just made a plan and carried it out. Some things in life couldn’t be changed or fixed, though.

“Let’s go to bed,” he said, pushing himself up and looking down at her.

For a moment it looked like she was going to fight him on it, but she acquiesced and let him pull her up. Still holding her hand, he turned off the television and hit the light switch on the wall as they walked out of the living room. The bedroom was dark, and he left it that way. She stood there and watched him flip back the messy covers. When he turned to look at her, she pulled off her shirt and tossed it in the floor.

Bucky pulled his shirt off, too, and then he stepped up to her and unbuttoned her shorts so she would wiggle out of them. Everything was dark, soft shapes and in slow motion as he knelt before her and pulled her panties down her legs until they pooled around her feet. Bucky licked his lips and used his hand to guide one of her legs over his shoulder until her knee was hooked over it. Darcy grabbed his other shoulder for balance as he opened his mouth to taste her, lick her, suck on her. Within seconds, she was wet and ready for him, and he was so ready for her.

When he pulled his mouth away to look up at her, he could see something else in her eyes. Not just lust and happiness. There was something there that terrified him because he felt it, too. Her short nails were pressing into the skin of his arm as she slipped her leg off his shoulder and pulled him up to stand in front of her. Her hands immediately went to his sweats and pushed them and his boxers down until they were both naked.

Wrapping his arm around her, he turned her toward the bed. She kissed him then, on her tiptoes with her arms around his neck. They fell onto the mattress together and she came at him again, all sweet kisses and wandering hands, surrounding him in a cocoon of hazy love.

Bucky reached blindly over to the nightstand and grabbed one of the condoms he’d put there that morning. He’d actually placed them all over the house–the bathroom, the living room, the patio, even the kitchen. She’d laughed when she’d found the one behind the toaster while she was making garlic bread that night.

He ripped it open and slipped it over his cock like he’d had all the practice in the world. And maybe he had because they were going through that value-size box pretty damn quickly. Her legs spread and he slipped inside her heat with such ease. It was like that was where he was meant to be all along. Easy, simple, wonderful, perfect. Her legs wrapped around his hips and he rocked into her, every stroke feeling like heaven.

“Oh, Bucky,” she whispered in his ear. He heard her inhalation and waited for what she’d say next, but she just let out a shuddering breath. She’d censored herself. It bothered him. What had she been about to say? Maybe what he wanted to say, but couldn’t. What Steve had accused him of on the phone days ago.

That fucking tightness in his chest was a bitch. Made it hard to breathe. Made it hard to think about anything but her and how much he wanted to stay here in this place with her. Trying to push those thoughts to the back of his head, he kissed her nice and deep before moving his mouth down one side of her neck and up the other. By now he knew her tells, the things she does and the sounds she makes when she’s close, and she was getting there and doing it without either of their hands on her clit.

Bucky pushed up into her, grinding down on her mound, trying to give her that friction she needed. And she was feeling it from the look on her face, those wide eyes and open mouth and flushed cheeks. Damn, she was beautiful and felt like home. Looking into her eyes was too intense, so he buried his face into her hair spread out over the pillow. “Come for me,” he begged. “Please. Please…”

And she did, her body surging up into his and her pussy fluttering around him. It didn’t take long for him to follow her down and spill into the condom, the only thing between them in that moment.


	13. Chapter 13

> “Stay, baby, don’t go away. ‘Cause I could never find nobody to make me feel this way.” - Please Stay (Don’t Go Away) (The Afghan Whigs covering Marvin Gaye)

**[3:11pm, May 15th, New Mexico]**

She was the one who answered the call, but after only a few words with Steve, she handed the phone over to him. He didn’t miss the look in her eyes. It was like the clock was ticking on him and her. His stomach was in knots.

He slipped on his shoes and walked out into the driveway with the phone pressed hard to his ear. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“They granted you amnesty. No military tribunal, no civilian trial. Free and clear.” Steve sounded exhilarated and happy.

“Oh,” Bucky said, feeling his stomach drop.

“Tony’s ridiculous. He’s pushing for back pay and compensation for your time as a prisoner of war.”

“I wasn’t a prisoner of war.”

“Well, you kinda were. In a way. Back pay is unlikely, but Tony’s got the media on his side because everyone loves Iron Man. He threatened the Congressional subcommittee that you’d go public with your story. They they left a man behind.”

“No,” Bucky said, walking up toward the barn. “I’m not doing this, punk.”

“I know, I know,” Steve said. “It’s just a threat to get our government off your ass. They’ve agreed to something like witness protection, too. You’ve got a new identity if you want it.”

“Steve,” Bucky warned. God, he felt sick to his stomach. “Stop.”

Steve was silent for a moment and then said, “What’s wrong, Buck?”

“You need to stop. I…”

When Bucky didn’t finish his thought, Steve said, “Look, you’ve got to do something. You can’t run and hide like last time. We need to get you straight.”

“I’m a ticking time bomb.” Why didn’t anyone understand that? Why did they think he could just switch it off? Why did they think he could hide under a rock in Nowhere, America and not be found eventually? Found and used like he’d been used for decades.

“Sam thinks he can help with that. He’s a counselor. He knows people who have been doing a lot of research into CBT.”

Bucky was in a foul mood, and he was having a hard time not taking it out on Steve. Mostly because Steve was crashing his little fantasy world. “What the fuck is CBT?”

“Cognitive Behavioral Therapy. They think using it in conjunction with something called flooding will help you break the connections they put in your brain.”

“I… I don’t know, Steve,” Bucky said, not knowing what to say.

“What’s wrong, Buck? Are you okay?”

“No,” he said.

“Are you…”

Bucky kicked at a tumbleweed that was blocking his path up to the barn. “I’m not suicidal,” he said.

“Then what’s wrong? You’ve got amnesty and a free pass from the military. Tony’s got them halfway talked into compensation for what happened to you during the war. Sam has a plan to help you de-program yourself.”

“I fucked up, punk,” he said softly, dropping down on the weathered wooden bench.

Another long beat of silence before Steve said, “What happened?”

“I slept with her.”

Steve cleared his throat. “Oh. Okay. That’s… good. Right?”

“Not when I’m in fucking love with her.”

“Uh, I’d think you’d want to have sex with a woman you love. That’s the way it works, right? And how did that happen? You haven’t even been there three weeks.”

Bucky sighed and put his head between his legs. “I don’t know how it happened.” After a moment’s pause, he said, “Actually, I do know. It was all her. _All_ her. She’s fuckin’ perfect.”

“So, let’s get you straight, get your life back. For her.”

It was so fucking tempting to let himself believe that it could be done. But it couldn’t. Things just weren’t that easy. “I can’t be with her,” he told Steve.

“Why? She’s not interested like that?”

“I… I don’t know. I think she might be. She makes me feel that way, at least.”

“I’m happy for you, Buck,” Steve said. “I think you should be happy for you, too.”

Bucky didn’t respond immediately. He stared at the ground between between his feet, feeling like he was about to lose his other arm. “When are you coming to get me?”

“Couple days,” Steve replied. “Unless you want more time. She’s got the house for two or three more weeks, I think. We can tell the subcommittee you’re out of the country. You can stay there with her.”

It was so fucking tempting. But every day was just going to make ripping the bandaid off harder. “No,” he said, almost choking on the word. “I’ll be ready to leave in a couple days.”

“Buck, are you sure? It’s not going to hurt for you to stay there.”

“It _is_ going to hurt. I need to stop this before I get in deeper.”

“Maybe you should get in deeper. You deserve to live.”

“And you don’t, punk? You’re telling me to ignore what’s going on in the world when you’re out there fighting for it every day?”

“It’s different,” Steve said.

Bucky shook his head. “Not by much. I’ll pull my weight. Come get me.”

Steve gave a heavy sigh before saying, “Okay. I’ll call you in a day or two and let you know when we’ll be there.”

Bucky hung up and sat on the bench, bent over and feeling a deep ache in his chest. He felt nauseous and tender. Two days. The thought of not seeing her for the rest of his life made him anxious, made his breathing quicken and panic well up in his mind. This was inappropriate. She was young, and she deserved more. And he didn’t deserve a goddamn thing, especially not someone like her.

Getting his breathing back under control, he walked back down to the house and went inside. She was standing against the back of the couch, trying to switch the television over to the radio mode, but the remote didn’t appear to be working. She looked over her shoulder at him when he walked in the door. He could see the question in her eyes, but she had mercy on him and didn’t voice it.

That overwhelming emotion—love for her—was crawling up his throat, blocking his windpipe. She turned back to the black television screen and hit the input button again. Bucky’s eyes swept over her jean shorts and loose yellow tank top. He didn’t want to talk about it, but he did want to touch her. He wanted that very badly.

Walking up behind her, he wrapped his arm around her midsection and pulled her against him. She tilted her head back and rested it on his metal shoulder. “Hey,” she said softly. “What’d Steve say?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said.

“Okay,” she told him. She opened her mouth to say something else, but he slipped his hand down her abdomen and into the top of her shorts. It shut her mouth real fast. With his fingertips pressed against her skin, he dipped into her panties and kept going until he was cupping her mound in his palm, his middle finger lying along her slit. He curled it, letting the tip of his finger slip between her lower lips.

Needing more, he shoved his hand a little further into her shorts and entered her with his index and middle finger, rocking his hand to feel the way she clenched around him. This was his for two more days and he wanted to drink his fill.

Her ass was nestled right up against his crotch, and he pushed into her, trapping her between the couch and his body. Darcy moaned for him and wrapped an arm backward to loop around his neck. Her delicate fingertips pressed into the tense muscles there. When she turned her head to look at him over her shoulder, he kissed her. It was hard and demanding and deep with his tongue fucking her mouth like he wanted to fuck her tight pussy. She gave it right back to him. Her hand gripped the back of his neck, and he heard her almost growl into his mouth as she rubbed her ass up against his hard cock. She took him from zero to a hundred in half a heartbeat sometimes. It was like she was in his blood.

Bucky bent his thumb and nudged her clit, ripping a gasp of surprised pleasure from her throat. Breaking away from her greedy mouth, he scattered wet, messy, open-mouthed kisses down her neck. “I fantasized about bending you over this couch more than once,” he whispered in her ear.

“Do it,” she told him, rolling her hips on his hand. “Bend me over and fuck me.”

Like he said, zero to a hundred in half a heartbeat. One minute he's sick over the state of his life. Then he's hard and ready to make love to her in the bed after bringing her off with his hand, and the next he’s got white hot desire shooting through him and all that matters is slamming his cock as far into her as possible just so he can feel like he owns her, like no one can fuck her better than he can.

He jerked his hand out of her shorts and flipped the button open. “Back pocket,” she told him, unzipping herself. His fingers were soaked with her wetness, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was being inside her. He shoved his fingers into her back pocket and pulled out a condom. Naughty girl scout, always ready for him. The fact that she’d been carrying it around all day in hopes he'd fuck her almost made Bucky come in his pants.

He jerked his shorts down and rolled the condom on while she watched over her shoulder with a glazed, blissed-out look in her eyes. Bucky pulled her shorts and panties down to her knees and used his hand to bend her over the back of the couch. She was on her tiptoes with her heart-shaped ass displayed for him. The way her hips narrowed to her waist was a work of fucking art, and so was the way her swollen and pink pussy could be seen between her thighs when she bent over for him like this.

Bucky held the base of his cock firmly in his fist and pressed into her, watching each inch disappear as she took him. It was mesmerizing and felt like a tight, warm, wet fist holding him in a vice-like grip. The way she clamped down and tried to hold him inside when he pulled his hips back almost made him black out. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he said, splaying his hand on her back and pressing her upper body further down to give him a better angle. “You feel so good. I could do this all damn day.”

If she was going to reply, he never really gave her a chance. His hips were pumping fast, slamming him into her, hard and firm. Her ass bounced each time he thrust forward. He alternated watching the ripple of her flesh when their bodies collided and the way she took all his dick as it slid in and out of her. He was slick with her musky nectar, dripping with it, and she was groaning obscenities at him, begging him to fuck her.

It was too much. His balls were so tight and he was seconds from a knee-buckling orgasm. But not before her. Not until he made it clear that he owned her pleasure, that only he could break her apart like this. Snaking his hand around her, he pinched her clit between his thumb and forefinger, eliciting a broken cry of pleasure from her sweet lips. He let his thrusts rock her body into his hand–one, two, three, four–and then she arched her back up and her pussy clamped down on him. It was just what he needed to send him over the edge while she chanted his name like a prayer.

He took a few moments to catch his breath before pulling out of her and disposing of the condom in the kitchen trashcan while he pulled his shorts up. When he turned back around, she was upright and buttoning her shorts, but her back was to him and her shoulders were curled in on themselves. Had he hurt her? He'd been out of control, and maybe he'd gotten too rough. The thought soured his stomach.

He walked up behind her again and wrapped his arm around her waist just like minutes before. “I'm sorry,” he murmured in her ear. “Did I hurt you, doll?”

She shook her head, but didn't turn to look at him. “No.”

There was something in her voice. Something was wrong. Well, a lot of things were wrong. Which one of those things was eating at her? Had he been too aggressive? “Was I too rough with you?”

“No,” she said again.

“Are you okay?”

“No,” Darcy said for a third time.

“What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Tell me,” he insisted.

After a long moment of holding her stiff body against his, she said, “What did Steve say?”

Oh. That. “Couple days and I'm good to go. Amnesty and no legal action. Free and clear for the most part.”

She turned around at that, looking up at him through those long lashes. “That's great news.”

“I ain't holding my breath,” Bucky told her with a shrug.

“Where will you go? When you leave here.”

“I don’t know.”

She watched him with those eyes, and he felt like he'd been stripped bare and she could see exactly how ugly he was inside, deep down, under everything. Then she did exactly what he expected her to do when she saw what he was underneath. She left. She pulled away from him and went into the bathroom. He heard the door click shut and then he heard the tumbler of the lock turn.

Bucky put his hand out and braced it against the back of the couch where he'd bent her over less than five minutes ago. He felt like a fucking criminal. A beautiful girl gave him nothing but love and he'd spit on it. He didn't deserve anything good.

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**[1:27am, May 16th, New Mexico]**

He hadn’t eaten dinner, and he suspected she hadn’t either. He’d spent the evening sitting on the two steps up to the front door. He’d actually sat out there for more than five hours, feeling like a coward and a piece of shit. At seven o’clock, he stopped hearing her moving in the house behind him, but he still sat there for another two hours just to be safe. When he’d finally went inside, the place was dark and her bedroom door was shut. It was what needed to happen, but it still made him feel sick.

He’d gone to bed and lain there in the middle of the mattress, awake and staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. His mind was running in circles around her. A voice in the back of his head would tell him that it could work. That he could get his life sorted out and throw all his energy into removing the HYDRA programming so he could be with her for real. Then he’d convince himself it was a lie, and he was fooling himself if he thought he could ever have anything remotely near to normal. And then he’d think of her telling him that normal was boring. Which made sense because she was an extraordinary girl.

The only thing he didn’t contradict himself on was that he didn’t want it to end like this, with a frantic fuck against the back of the couch. That’s what pulled him out of bed in the dead of night to stand outside her door for at least two full minutes before he mustered the courage to try the knob. It turned and the door opened silently. She was curled up in a little ball in the center of the bed, her knees pulled into her chest and her back to the door.

Bucky swallowed the fear of rejection crawling up his throat and whispered, “Darcy.”

Her breathing was too fast for her to be sleeping, but she didn’t move.

“Sweetheart,” he tried again, stepping up to the edge of the bed. “Please.”

That made her turn over onto her back and look at him. “It’s the middle of the night, Bucky,” she said.

“Can I… sleep here with you?” he asked. “I can’t sleep in my bed.”

Her eyes looked tired and sad. For a moment it looked like she’d tell him no, but after a long pause she reached a hand out and flipped her covers back. “Yeah, okay.”

Bucky settled in next to her. She didn’t move over, so he was right up against her body. Maybe that’s what she wanted. It was definitely what he wanted. He rolled onto his left side and tentatively reached up to run his fingers through her hair, rearranging it across the white pillowcase. She closed her eyes and let him touch her, let him run his fingertips over her temple and down her cheek until he hit her jaw and then her warm neck. He grazed her collarbones beneath her luminous skin. Any further and he wouldn’t be able to touch her except through the thin cotton fabric of her shirt. He went with it and trailed his fingers between her breasts and down her stomach, the rough fingers of his hands catching on the fabric of her shirt.

When he reached the hem of the shirt, he moved his hand back up to her forehead, just barely touching the worry lines there, and then down to touch her eyebrows and delicate eyelids and the curve of her perfect nose. Her lips. He lingered there, looking down at his index and middle fingers against the dark pink of her lower lip.

When he finally moved down to her chin, she whispered, “What are you doing?”

“Looking at you,” he said, moving his hand up to her cheekbones, grazing the left then the right.

“You’re not just looking,” she replied.

“Touching you,” he amended. “You’re perfect.”

“Bucky, I… Look, I’m really confused.”

He felt like a rubber band inside him was being stretched and it had finally snapped. Giving a rough, breathy laugh he dropped his head to bury his face in her neck. “So I am,” he admitted.

“What is this? Are you going to leave for good? Because that’s what it felt like earlier today.”

“I don’t have a choice.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit. You do have a choice. Are you leaving me?”

“I’m not… I’m not leaving _you_. I’ve… I have responsibilities, and I have a fucked up life that says I can’t have you.”

“So, you’re leaving me,” she said her voice harder than he’d heard it before.

“It’s…”

“It’s simple,” she said, cutting him off. “It’s simple, and I think you’re wrong, but I don’t know what you have to deal with…”

He pulled back and looked down at her face. Her eyes were open now. “I don’t want to argue,” he said.

“Why are you here in my bed?”

“Because I can’t be in mine.”

“Why?” she pressed him.

Because she wasn’t in it, but he couldn’t say that to her.

When he didn’t answer she said, “You’re going to have a lot of nights ahead of you that end in an empty bed. You better learn how to sleep in it.”

He didn’t respond because her comment cut him deep. She was right and the thought of spending the rest of his life without being able to look forward to her was terrifying.

“Unless you fill it with other girls. I’m sure you won’t have any trouble finding ones to volunteer, even if it’s just for a night.” She sounded bitter and hateful, and he knew it was all his fault. This wasn’t her nature; he’d made her this way. Just another reason why he needed to leave.

The thought of any other woman disgusted him. “No,” he said, the word a knee-jerk reaction to what she’d said.

“No what?”

“No one else. I need to be alone.”

She shook her head. “That’s really fucking sad, Bucky. It’s like you’re punishing yourself. Why?”

“I’m not punishing myself. This is bigger than me or you or… us.”

“Yeah, okay, but you’ll come into my bed and touch me like this and make me feel like you…” She cut herself off abruptly, her lips pressing together until they were white.

He knew what she’d been about to say, and she was right. He was coming into her bed and touching her, making her feel like he loved her. Because he did. “Do you want me to leave?”

Her harsh bark of laughter was painful. “No,” she said. “Just hold me.”

“Okay.” Of course. Anything you want. Anything but what I can’t give, he thought. It made it worse that she wanted it, wanted him. She turned over and pressed her back into him. Bucky wrapped his one and only arm around her and pulled her tighter, amazed at how each of her curves and dips fit with his like a jigsaw puzzle. “Is this okay?”

She nodded. “Better than okay,” she said.

“You always smell like your citrus bodywash,” he said, pressing his nose into her neck and shoulder. “It was one of the first things I noticed about you when we met.”

“The first thing I noticed about you was that you’re arguably the hottest guy I’ve ever seen with my own two eyes.”

He chuckled into her warm skin. “Lies.”

“Oh, no. No lies. HYDRA is pretty fucking stupid if they had you shooting people instead of seducing all the horny housewives of the world leaders. They’d be running the show by now with all those women in their back pocket.”

He didn’t like to talk about HYDRA and what he’d done for them, but like everything in his life, she made it easy. She also made it silly. “I’m no good at that shit anymore,” he whispered.

“Now _that’s_ a lie. Haven’t we decimated half a value-size box of condoms in two or three days?”

“That’s your fault,” he told her.

She kicked her foot back into his leg. “How is that my fault?”

“You make me crazy. I can’t stop myself.”

“Not crazy enough, apparently, or you’d be sticking around.”

“Darcy,” he warned. “I don’t want to argue.”

She sighed. “Okay, we’ll just avoid. Because _that’s_ so much healthier.”


	14. Chapter 14

> “So have you got the guts? Been wondering if your heart’s still open and if so, I wanna know what time it shuts.” - Do I Wanna Know (Arctic Monkeys)

**[7:13am, May 16th, New Mexico]**

He woke up like he’d fallen asleep—his arm around her and her back snugly pressed along his front. His erection was right up against her ass, and he tried to will it away so he could just stay with her a few minutes more. She blew his plan right out of the water when she turned around, placed her palms on his chest, and kissed his lips.

Bucky immediately kissed her back, pouring everything he had into it, not giving a shit about morning breath or what was going to happen in a day or two. He just wanted to be there in that moment with her. She was gentle at first, languorous and sweet. And then as his hand moved over her body, skimming over her hips and waist, palming her breasts, she kissed him with more urgency and fire. He knew right where this was going and most of him rejoiced at the opportunity she was giving him to feel her again. A small voice in the back of his mind warned him to put a stop to it, but it was easily hushed. Especially when she nipped at his lower lip and spread her legs so he could slip a thigh between them.

He wanted to talk to her and tell her how much he wanted this and needed her, but it would turn into an argument. She didn’t see things the way he did; and she wasn’t the kind of woman who backed down when she thought she was right. It made him wonder if she really was right and he was wrong.

She slipped her hands up to his shoulders and pushed him back, moving to kneel next to him.

The room had a yellow cast from the sun rising through the east-facing window. He could see her so well in the morning light. Her dark hair was tangled and messy and her face was fresh and clear of makeup. When she reached down and pulled off her shirt to reveal her stomach and chest, he wondered if he’d ever seen a woman so beautiful.

She tugged at the leg of his boxers. Bucky did not need to be told twice; he lifted up his hips and pushed the underwear down his legs. She helped since it wasn’t an easy thing to do with one hand, and then she moved to straddle one leg, leaning her body over him. It brought her nipples right up to his mouth, and he licked them while she dug in the nightstand drawer.

A condom. She pulled out a condom and ripped it open with her hands. That wasn't one of his hiding places, so it must have been her. He closed his eyes and let her roll it over his cock. He felt like he was floating or dreaming or drugged because everything was hazy and warm and perfect. The sun coming in the window and the soft bed and they way she moved against him. The world was so far away and it was just them, together in this room. When he opened his eyes, she was trying to work her panties down over her hips, but not having much luck. She’d have to get off him to make it happen, and he didn’t want her so far away. Just like he’d done before, he ripped the side seams on them. She gave a giddy laugh and smiled down at him while she got into position, straddling his waist. He helped her by holding his cock straight, and she sank down on it, her sex so wet and ready for him with such little effort. It wasn’t supposed to be like that. He was supposed to have to work for it, to do his best to please her. She was too easy. Being with her was too simple.

Bucky bent his knees, giving her support as she worked the muscles in her stomach to rock back and forth, lifting up slightly when she went back. She felt like heaven, all snug and soft and giving. She leaned back and planted her right hand on his knee behind her. It allowed him to see everything–every inch of her body from her knees to the top of her head, the width of her hips and the nip of her waist, and the fullness of her tits. Her creamy, pale skin that was softer than he’d imagined before he was given the privilege of touching her. The way she took his cock right there below the dark thatch of hair.

She couldn’t move freely, and he could sense her frustration as she leaned forward and pressed her left hand to his chest and then leaned away to rock her ass back against his thighs with the weight on her right hand. When she went forward again, trying to find just the right position, he took his hand off her hip and offered it to her. Their palms pressed together and she laced her fingers with his. It gave her the security and balance she was looking for, his arm bracing her on one side and his bent legs on the other. He felt her move with more urgency, her tits bouncing. She was a vision as she writhed on him in the warm morning sunlight.

But it wasn’t enough. Seeing her was nice, but feeling her was so much better, and not just feeling the way her thighs fit over his narrow hips or the tightness of her around him. He wanted everything, all of her, around him, over him, on him.

Instead of telling her, he bent his arm when she rocked forward. Darcy gasped as her upper body dropped down onto him, her breasts pressing into her chest. He could feel how hard her nipples were and he longed to touch them, but he needed to get her closer. And to do that, he put his arm around her, pressing his forearm into her spine and splaying his hand between her shoulder blades. With her lying on him like this, he could plant his feet into the mattress and thrust his hips up into her in little strokes.

He desperately wanted his left arm. Preferably, his actual arm–the one he’d lost decades back–but the metal HYDRA monstrosity would do. Anything to hold her, keep her close. One arm didn’t seem like enough. Her hands were on either side of his face, cupping his jaws and cheeks. He almost lost his breath when she kissed him like she wanted to crawl inside him. Like he wanted to do to her.

When she pulled back and looked down at him with those beautiful eyes clouded with pleasure and lust, he wanted to whisper to her and tell her all those things he’d kept close. That he wanted her, needed her, _loved_ her. That leaving was going to rip is heart out. That even though she’d taught him that there were happy moments still left in life, none of them would be quite as perfect without her. That he didn’t really have a choice even though everyone thought he did. They just didn’t understand how bad it was and how much he didn’t want to be the reason she didn’t get the life she deserved.

Instead of saying anything, he kissed her again, and then he shoved his hand between him, wiggling it until he could press his thumb on her clit. It started the dominoes falling–all those little tells of hers that ended in her soft moans of pleasure as he made her come around him. He’d never read a woman so easily, and he couldn’t figure out if she was just that open or if they were just that good together.

Her hot breath puffed against his face between messy, desperate kisses. He knew he had her when she slid a hand up and grabbed a fistful of his hair. She was careful not to hurt him, though. It made Bucky’s heart ache. That she knew how much he’d been through and how much he was capable of taking and she still took care not to pull his hair too hard as she came apart above him.

He could feel her fluttering around him, her lips grazing his ear as she moaned. Getting her there always did it for him, always took him right up to the precipice and pushed him over. This time was no different as he came so hard he could only make a wordless cry that vaguely sounded like her name.

She stayed right where she was for a long moment, her chest rising and falling, her heartbeat rapid and strong. Finally, she rolled off him and watched as he got rid of the condom. The trashcan was by the door and he stood there in front of it with his back to her, wondering what would come next.

When he summoned the courage to turn around, she was on her back and gloriously naked with a blissed out look in her eyes. He'd done that. He'd made her feel that way. Without a word, he crawled back into her bed and pulled her into him until they were chest-to-chest, hip-to-hip. She looked right into his eyes before kissing him tenderly. And then she buried her face into his neck and sighed. Bucky tried to swallow the emotion clawing it's way up his throat and closed his eyes.

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**[6:43pm, May 16th, New Mexico]**

Bucky was the one who answered the phone even though it had been sitting right beside her while they finished their dinner. She just looked at the damn thing with a blank expression.

“What?” he snapped into the mouthpiece as he shut the front door behind him. The day was trying to cool off, but spring was getting hotter with each passing week.

“They want you to attend a formal hearing tomorrow afternoon. They'll have the papers ready to be signed then,” Steve said.

Bucky felt the bottom drop out of his world. Tomorrow afternoon. He had less than twenty-four hours with her.

“Buck? You there?”

“Yeah, I'm here.” His voice sounded rough even to his own ears.

Steve cleared his throat. “I can try to delay it.”

“No.”

“You can go back there when you're done. No one has to know.”

“It's fine,” Bucky lied. “When’s the pickup?”

“Eleven in the morning, your time. You sure you don't want another day or two?”

“No,” he said, trying to push the rising panic down. “Eleven hundred tomorrow.”

“Buck,” Steve said. “I think you need to give this some more thought. If you and her want…”

“Shut up, punk.”

His friend sighed and hung up after saying goodbye.

Bucky walked up to the barn. Instead of sitting on the bench outside, he pushed open the door and stepped into the darkness inside. With his hand braced against the rough wooden wall, he let himself break down and cry. Mostly for her, but also for all the things he'd missed out on and would never have.

Mostly for her, though. It took him three tries before he could compose himself and wipe the tracks of tears off his face. He walked back down to the house.

She was putting the last of the dishes into the dishwasher when he came through the door, and from the look on her face she knew exactly what he was about to say. Bucky almost fell apart again.

Before he could say anything, she said, “I know I can't stop you from leaving, and I know you think you have to. Maybe you do. But… that doesn't mean down the line we can't… be together. Right? Like, later.” Her hands were twisting in the dish towel she was clutching.

“I don't think so, sweetheart,” he whispered. “You've got a whole life in front of you and you can't wait for me. I've got things I have to do and I don't know how long they'll take.”

“Yes, I can wait for you.” Her voice was strong and sure.

“No. You shouldn't.” He paused and then said, “Tomorrow morning at eleven.”

Her shoulders slumped and she turned her back on him. “You're a fucking asshole,” she told him. “A stupid jerk who is either determined to fuck up what's left of his life just so he can punish himself or leading me on when he's not really all that interested.”

“I'm a jerk who cares about you too much to watch you throw your life away on someone like me.”

She whirled around and the fire in her eyes almost knocked him back a step. “That's my fucking decision, not yours. Mine!”

“I don't want to argue, Darcy.”

“You just want to run and hide.” There was that bitterness that he'd put in her.

She left and went to her bedroom, slamming the door. He almost pushed it open when he heard her crying. She was so quiet about it that he nearly didn't hear the soft sobs. He turned around and pressed his forehead to the door, clenching his teeth as more tears ran down his face. He couldn't breathe. He was scum, and he hated himself for what he'd done. He'd been selfish and used her to catalog happy memories and now he was leaving her.

Red-eyed and exhausted, he turned out the lights and went to his room to fall into bed. He left the door open just in case. Just in case she needed him like he needed her.

Just after eleven o’clock he heard her door open and her bare feet walking across the floor. She crawled into his bed and without hesitation, he reached out and pulled her close. She pressed her face into his chest. Her lips brushed over his bare skin when she said, “I want you… one more time.”

If his heart wasn't already shattered, it would have been at her request. Gently, he tilted her face up and kissed her, slow and lovingly. He put everything he had into it and she gave it all right back to him. In a dreamy state, they undressed each other and explored their bodies with hands and mouths. She was and always would be his favorite flavor.

And when she was so wet she was leaving a spot on the sheets all by herself, he rolled a condom on and angled his hips until he was all the way inside her. Darcy clutched at him, trying to hold him close as she begged him not to stop and told him that he felt so good, so right.

“I love you, sweetheart,” he admitted, giving into a selfish impulse. He wanted her to know how he felt for her. He knew it might make it harder for her, but he did it anyway because he was a selfish asshole sometimes.

“I lo....” He covered her mouth with his so she wouldn't say it back, so he didn't have to hear it. It wasn't real until she said it, and he didn't want to think about giving up a woman like her who loved him. Because that was just fucking insane.

He kept kissing her and distracting her with his hands and his cock, until she came for the second time since she'd crawled into his bed, and then he followed her down, crying out her name.

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**[10:15am, May 17th, New Mexico]**

He’d roused her from sleep early that morning and buried his face between her legs. Bucky had taken his time, trying to memorize her—her smell, her flavor, the slick and soft lips of her sex. She had spread for him so willingly, her thighs wide open. She'd tried to reciprocate, but he wouldn't let her because their time together was limited and the clock was ticking quickly. Selfishly, he’d wanted to spend it the way he preferred, and he preferred to be deep inside her, as much of their skin touching as possible.

She had held him tightly to her as they rocked together and when he found the courage to look into her eyes, he’d seen someone torn between desire and shellshock. Guilt had crept into the back of his mind, but he’d pushed it down to focus on the way she felt and the sweet sounds she made for him. She’d come before him and he had followed a couple minutes later, only because he was trying to extend the intimacy as long as he could.

After they had both used the bathroom to empty their bladders and after Bucky had haphazardly thrown his clothes into two of the shopping bags from his first day, they had both crawled back into his bed, naked. He’d spent the last two hours touching her skin and letting her touch his. His heart felt heavy and tender.

“What are you going to do first?” she asked, slipping her leg over his thighs.

“I have a hearing before the Congressional subcommittee this afternoon.”

“Are you nervous?”

She knew him so well. “Yes. I'm afraid they’ll take it all back. They don't know everything I've done. They just think I was responsible for a couple assassinations and the attempt on Fury because not much can be proved beyond that, and I don’t think they realize I've still got the programming in me. This wouldn't be happening if they knew that.”

“I'll raise hell if they take the deal off the table,” she told him.

Bucky smiled, but it tasted bitter on his lips. “Steve says it's a done deal, and this is a formality.”

“Then what?”

He sighed. “Probably stay with Steve and try to get this shit out of my head.”

“And then?” She was digging for information

“Figure out how to bring HYDRA down.”

“You're not taking the offer of a new identity?”

“No.”

“Why?”

It was a complicated question to answer, but he tried anyway. “I can't sit back while everyone else fights them, not when I can help. Even without the prosthetic arm, I have enhanced strength and I'm a good shot. I have something to offer.”

She rubbed her face on his chest, and he could feel her warm breath against his skin. “Can you memorize something for me?” she asked, looking up at him.

“Yes.”

“Eight. Zero. Four.”

When she didn't continue, he repeated the numbers to her.

Satisfied, she added, “Eight, seven, four, four, two, one, seven.”

“What am I memorizing?” he asked.

“Say it,” she told him.

“Eight, zero, four, eight, seven, four…”

When he couldn't find the final four numbers she gave them to him and he repeated them.

“You got it?” she asked.

“Eight, zero, four, eight, seven, four, four, two, one, seven.” It wasn't until he repeated it a second time that he realized what it was. “Is that your phone number, doll?”

She nodded and laid her head down on his chest. “Don't be dramatic. You can call me whenever you want. Doesn't have to be all or nothing.”

“Knowing me will put you in danger.”

“So what? It's not like knowing Jane and Thor hasn't already done that.”

“Yeah, but I don't want you in danger because of me.”

“So you're being selfish,” she said, trailing the tip of her index finger around his nipple.

“I thought I was being _selfless_ by protecting you even though I want you.”

Darcy lifted her head and rested her chin on his chest so she could see his face. “You thought wrong. You're just punishing yourself, and you're using me to do it.”

“That's not what this is, doll.”

“You're really fucking stupid. You know that?” She said it with a sad smile, and that took some of the bite out of her words.

He pushed her hair away from her face. “If I'm so stupid, how can I remember your number?”

“Do you?”

“Eight, zero, four, eight, seven, four, four, two, one, seven.”

“You gonna use it?”

He sighed. “Darcy, I’d just be holding you back.”

“What the fuck kind of life do you think I have if _you_ would be holding _me_ back?”

“I can’t give you anything but trouble.”

“Maybe that’s what I want,” she said.

They both jerked when they heard the sound of a vehicle in the driveway. Bucky felt his stomach drop and his chest tighten up. “It’s Steve,” he whispered. “I need to get up and put on some clothes.”

She rolled away from him and pressed her face into his pillow. He could feel that stinging in his sinuses that foreshadowed tears. Quickly, he pulled on the pair of sweats and a T-shirt. Bucky looked down at Darcy on his bed. She was still naked and wrapped in a white sheet, looking like a goddess even if he couldn’t see her face.

The knock at the door made them both jump again. Darcy pulled her face out of the pillow and looked up at him. “I don’t want to get up,” she told him.

“Okay.”

“Don’t leave without saying goodbye.”

“I won’t. Let me go answer the door, though,” he said before he walked out of the bedroom, pulling the door until it was only cracked.

He blinked away the tears before he opened the front door to find Steve in a too-tight T-shirt and a pair of jeans, hands on his hips. Bucky didn’t invite him inside, stepping out on the porch instead. “Hey,” he told Steve, barely able to meet the other man’s gaze.

“You ready?” Steve asked.

Bucky looked down at the wooden slats under his feet. “No.”

“Buck, I’ll bring you back here after the hearing. You don’t have to do this.”

“I do. I need to get this programming out of me.”

“So, do it. Go in there and tell her that you’re moving in with me and we’re going to work on that, and that when she finishes up here, she’s invited,” Steve said, shoving his hands in the pockets of the jeans.

He was a good friend. Steve valued his privacy, and Bucky knew it meant a lot for him even offer to put Darcy up. “It’s not just that. I can’t give her any kind of life.” He sighed and finally looked up to lock eyes with Steve. “Look, I don’t want to go in circles with you about this when she and I have already done it. It can’t happen. I need you to respect that.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, okay. I just… think you’re wrong.”

“So does everyone else.”

“Maybe that should tell you something, Buck.”

Bucky nodded over to the blue sedan in the driveway. “Where’s the jet?”

“About an hour from here. Didn’t want to risk anyone tracking it to her. Better safe than sorry, right?”

“Right. Look, I gotta go back and say goodbye to her.” Fuck there were those tears again. He turned his head away so his friend couldn’t see them, couldn’t see how much this was fucking him up.

“Okay,” Steve agreed. “I’ll… wait out here.”

Bucky slipped back inside and grabbed his two paper shopping bags, sitting them outside on the porch. “My luggage,” he told Steve before ducking back in and shutting the door.

She was still in his bed, wrapped up in sheets that he’d made love to her on so many times. “Darcy,” he said softly, standing at the edge of the bed. She rolled over onto her back and looked up at him. She’d been crying. Her eyes were red-rimmed and wet. “Sweetheart, don’t cry over me. I’m not worth it.”

“You don’t get to decide that,” she whispered. Sitting up, she cleared her throat and said, “I want you to be careful with yourself and don’t let anyone convince you that you’re not a good person.” She sounded so serious, so unlike herself. God, he couldn’t breathe. His lung capacity was like the size of a fucking thimble.

“I want you to have a good life,” he said, reaching down to touch her face. “You just need to forget about me.”

“Not gonna happen,” she said. “Give me a kiss.”

He smiled and leaned down to drop one to her forehead. Her hands guided him down so she could press her mouth to his. What started out as sweet and gentle morphed into desperate and intense. She reached up and grabbed his arm, twisting on the bed. He could have resisted and won, but he didn’t really want to fight her. He let Darcy pull him into bed again, rolling until she was on top of him and scattering her wet kisses all over his face.

“Hey, guess what,” she said before kissing the tip of his nose.

“What?”

“I love you.”

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He’d stopped her from saying it the previous night and here she was trying to sneak it in before he left. While he’d told himself that hearing it would just make it worse–and it did–knowing that she felt the same way he did made his heart swell up. He felt hot all over, his stomach in knots.

“Sneaky, sweetheart,” he whispered, his hand on her neck pulling her down for a long, lazy, loving kiss.

“Buck, are you ready to…” Steve had one foot in the room when he saw them on the bed. Bucky could only imagine what he’d taken in before he squeaked and ducked out again. Probably Bucky flat on his back and the most gorgeous, dark-haired woman wrapped in a sheet on top of him. The sheet was not secured properly, so Steve very well could have gotten an eyeful of her chest. He didn’t know whether he should laugh or be jealous and protective.

Darcy was choosing laughter. She pressed her face into his neck, giggling, while Steve said, “Uh, sorry,” from just outside the door. “Didn’t meant to… Um, do you need more time?”

“One minute, punk. Go wait outside,” he called out.

A few seconds later the front door shut. Darcy lifted up her head and said, “I’m pretty sure I might have flashed him.” Her cheeks were bright red and she looked even more beautiful than usual.

“Probably the first time he saw a pair of tits since his mom’s when he was breastfeeding.”

She tilted her head back and laughed. When she composed herself, she looked at him with shining eyes. “I can’t believe you’re leaving me, you fucking asshole.”

“Mouth, Miss Lewis,” he warned her.

“You like my mouth.”

He kissed her before saying, “I do.”

“What’s my number?”

“Eight, zero, four, eight, seven, four, four, two, one, seven.”

“And when are you going to call me?”

“Darcy,” he warned, pushing himself off her. “Forget about me.”

“ _You_ forget about _me_ , “she said defiantly.

“Not happening,” he replied.

“Same,” she agreed. “Call me when you stop being an idiot.”

He stood beside the bed and looked down at her. This was going to hurt like hell, but maybe it had been worth it. Knowing her, even for this short moment in time, had definitely changed his life. He had a plan now. He’d even forgotten about the gun.

“I’m leaving the gun in the drawer,” he said. “It’s there if you need it for protection.”

“I bet you could do a better job.”

“Doll,” he warned. “I can’t.”

She sat up and pushed herself out of bed to stand in front of him. Her hand clutched the sheet around her. “I’m an optimist,” she said, tears welling up in her eyes. She didn’t look like much of an optimist at that moment. “So,” she continued, “I’m going to tell you that I’ll see you around. I’m _not_ saying goodbye.”

Bucky realized he’d lost the battle he’d been fighting all morning when he felt the cool tracks of his drying tears on his face. She wiped the wetness off his cheeks with her thumb. “Thank you,” he whispered, wrapping his arm around her in a tight hug.

“For what?”

“For everything. For saving my life.”

“Not for really awesome sex?”

He laughed through his tears and buried his face into her hair. “Yeah, that too.” Her arms were tight around his neck. “You gotta let me go, doll.”

“Never was very good at that,” she told him. A moment later she relaxed her grip and let him pull back. He gave her one last lingering kiss, trying to imprint in his mind the way her soft lips felt.

He backed away from her, every cell in his body screaming at him to stay. She looked so beautiful and so sad as she stood there in just a bed sheet.

“What’s my number?” she said when he reached the doorway.

“Eight, zero, four, eight, seven, four, four, two, one, seven.”

“See you, hot stuff,” she called after him. He almost believed that she was okay, but her voice broke on the last word. Bucky ran out of the house, busting through the door and nearly knocking Steve over.

“Let’s go,” he said, head down and voice not quite gruff enough to hide his emotion. Bucky strided quickly over to the car and dropped down into the passenger seat. Steve slipped into the driver seat and looked over, no doubt seeing everything Bucky didn’t want him to see.

“Buck,” Steve said.

“Go,” he told his friend.

“I think maybe you should…”

“Fucking _go_ , Steve! _Go_!”

Steve snapped his mouth shut and started the car. Bucky curled in on himself in the passenger seat and closed his eyes. So begins the third part of my life, he thought. There was pre-HYDRA, post-HYDRA, and post-Darcy. God, his chest fucking _ached_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't kill me, readers. I still love you. Bucky still loves Darcy. And there will be grand gestures of love from him later on. I promise. He just needs to get his shit (i.e. mind and life) in order. You'll see. Stick with me and I'll see if I can get the next chapter edited and posted before the end of today (it's 8am here for all you non-eastern-US people).


	15. Chapter 15

**I POSTED CHAPTER 14 EARLIER TODAY (A FEW HOURS AGO).**

**IF YOU HAVEN'T DONE SO ALREADY, I HIGHLY SUGGEST YOU GO BACK AND READ IT SO YOU KNOW WHAT THE HECK IS GOING ON.**

> “It’s never over. My kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder. It’s never over. All my riches for her smiles when I slept so soft against her.” - Lover You Should’ve Come Over (Jeff Buckley)

**[10:03am, July 21st, New York]**

Bucky was anxious and uncomfortable. He hated medical facilities of any kind. The metal tables and sterile smell made him queasy and agitated because they brought back some very bad memories. Steve was standing by the window, looking out over over the East River into Brooklyn. Bucky felt like he was going to throw up. He needed something to knock him out.

“Sure you won’t punch me in the head?” he asked Steve.

The other man turned around and gave Bucky a kind smile. “They got drugs for that, Bucky.”

“Drugs that will actually work on me?”

“Worked on me, should work on you,” Steve answered.

Bucky shifted on the exam table in the room on the forty-fifth floor of Stark’s ugly-ass building. “I don’t know, punk. I don’t know if I can go through with this surgery.”

Steve walked over and stood beside him. “I’ll be here. I’m not leaving.”

“I don’t want another metal weapon hooked on my shoulder.”

“That’s not what it is. Tony said it….”

“Tony said what?” Tony asked, walking into the room. He was in an expensive pinstripe suit with a pair of goggles on his head that could be used for light and magnification.

Steve sighed like he was now on babysitting duty. “His prosthetic. You said it was like a real arm.”

“As much as a hunk of metal can be,” Tony replied. “Hey, that nurse out there wants you bad, Cap. She’s a fan.”

Steve flushed. “Stop it.”

“Just sayin’. Might want to get her number; she’s cute.”

“No,” Steve said. And then after a moment’s pause he said, “Which one?”

Tony chuckled and Bucky couldn’t help but smile. “The blonde in the purple scrubs.”

“Oh,” Steve said. He liked her, Bucky could tell. Steve continued with, “I don’t think she likes me. I think she’s trying to get my autograph for a charity auction.”

“Then get out there and give it to her, you goon. What? Captain America doesn’t help charities for sick babies?”

Steve looked over at Bucky, and Bucky nodded toward the door. “Go on, punk.”

After Steve left, Bucky realized he’d not been alone in a room with Stark since Siberia. Since they’d had their knock-down-drag-out fight that resulted in his current condition of having one arm.

Tony sat down in an armchair by the door.

Bucky looked up from his dangling feet and said, “I’m sorry about your parents, Stark. I didn’t… well, I remember, but I didn’t… I need you to know I never would have done it if I had been in control. I… I regret it.”

Tony waved away the apology. “I got daddy issues, man. Kinda blew up at you back then, didn’t I?”

“What?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at Stark and wondering why the other man was trying to make this so simple. It was easy to forget that two years had passed while he’d been in cryo.

“I get it now. It was them, not you. You were the tool, the gun, the fist, the whatever. Perspective and shit. Plus, Pepper told me I was being an asshole, and unfortunately for me, Pepper is always right.”

“I still did it.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Don’t try to talk me out of my magnanimous mood. Apology accepted. And, like, extended, too. The arm-pulling-off thing. That's my bad.”

“Uh, thanks,” Bucky replied, confused by the turn of the conversation. He'd thought Stark had come in to warn him not to fuck up or he'd rip the new arm off. Not to apologize for doing it in the first place.

“Yeah, don't get too comfortable there, ice pop. I might just put the new one on backwards,” Tony said. “Wouldn't that just be a bitch.”

Bucky’s soft chuckle was interrupted by the door opening. “She's married,” Steve said when he came back into the room.

“So?” Tony said.

“I don't sleep with married women,” Steve said, scowling and walking back to the window.

“Actually, you don't sleep with anyone,” Bucky said, unable to resist.

Tony laughed while Steve turned on his heel to give Bucky a dirty look. “I've done some… things,” he told them.

“With your left or right hand?” Tony asked.

“A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell,” Steve replied, turning back to the window and clasping his hands behind his back. After two beats of silence, all three men burst into laughter. They were still laughing when the surgeon and his team walked into the room.

Bucky’s mood soured immediately at the sight of white lab coats and a rolling cart filled with instruments. He tried to control his breathing, but it was difficult. He was damn near hyperventilating. Steve’s hand on his shoulder took his focus off the medical equipment and the vials of drugs next to syringes.

“I don't think I can do this,” he told Steve. His heart was racing, and he could only think of the past. Of all the injections and surgeries and procedures that he'd endured during his time as HYDRA’s asset.

“I'm not leaving, Buck. I'll be here for every second of it, and I'll be here when you wake up. I'm not letting anything happen to you. You've got my word.” Steve gave his shoulder a firm squeeze.

It wasn't until his initial panic had quieted that he saw the arm on the cart. It was the same color as his skin and almost looked like flesh. Almost, but not quite.

“What's it made of?” Bucky asked.

Tony stood up and walked over to stand next to Steve. “Underneath it's pretty similar to your old one,” he said. “It'll probably move a little a smoother for you. But the cover is a latex and fabric blend that we've layered guard plates into for durability.”

“How did you do all this in just the past month?” he asked, looking from Tony to Steve.

“Stark Industries has been working on the cover for other applications that will actually make money. We just tweaked it for this purpose,” Tony said.

“The metal framework underneath is what took the most time,” Steve added. “A few days after I dropped you off, they started working on it using the old one as a guide. Tony's good with robotics.”

“Tony is actually _great_ with robotics. Rogers here just likes to sell me short.” The surgeon waved Tony over, and the billionaire wondered off to discuss the procedure with the surgical staff.

“How... “ Bucky trailed off, overwhelmed by everything. He'd been expecting a replacement that looked like what he'd lost. This was a step up. “Why… I mean, how did you know I wanted it to look like that?”

Steve smiled and shoved his hands on his pockets. “Well, that was, uh, Darcy. She knew we were working on it and called me to tell me it needed to be, uh, I think she said it need to be, and I quote, really fucking natural and shit. Those were her words, not mine.”

Bucky closed his eyes and sighed. His chest was tight again. Of course it was her doing. Of course.

“She asked me what I wanted it to look like one day,” he told Steve.

“You should call and thank her,” Steve said.

Bucky shook his head. “No. I don't even know where she is.”

“I could find out for you,” his friend offered. “It'd be easy to do.”

“Leave her alone. She's got her own life and doesn't need me fucking it up.”

“She, uh, looked like she wasn't minding you being around the last time I saw her.”

They hadn't talked about that day two months ago when he'd left the house in New Mexico. And they certainly hadn't talked about Steve walking in on a very naked Darcy on top of him in the bed. The memory was bittersweet and almost took his breath away.

“We’re ready,” the surgeon said. He and his team were responsible for making sure the arm was hooked up to his nervous system properly. And Stark was responsible for the mechanical aspect.

Bucky swallowed the lump in his throat and moved to lie back on the table. One of the surgical assistants peeled the cap off his stump while another measured a large dose of a drug—he wasn't sure what—into a syringe that could have taken down an elephant.

God, he wished she was here to hold his hand and kiss his forehead and tell him it would be okay. Steve laid a hand on his shoulder and Bucky closed his eyes. It would have to do.

///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\

**[8:32am, July 22nd, New York]**

He was on his back in the queen-size bed, flexing his arm. It was superior to the old one in almost every way. Lighter, faster to adjust, silent when it moved, and—best of all—almost mistakable for an actual flesh and blood arm. It was, however, less durable. The latex and fabric blend with plating grafted in could take a beating, but could be ripped, cut, or burned under extreme conditions. Stark assured him that the actual prosthetic beneath would still function properly, but he'd have to come in to have the covering repaired. It was a small price to pay to have his left arm back and not have people gawk at it when he walked down the street.

He was living in an apartment in Brooklyn with Steve. He'd hardly recognized the neighborhood. What used to be lower-middle class row houses and large factories were now multi-story office buildings and warehouses that had been converted into trendy condos and apartments. Their place covered half the fifth floor of an old textile factory. The ceilings were high and the windows let in a healthy dose of sunlight in the mornings. The doctor had told him not to exert himself for at least a day, so he'd skipped his usual pre-dawn run by the river.

Instead, he was lying in bed thinking about her and the last time they'd made love. How she’d felt and the way she'd looked at him. It wasn't anything new; he thought of her every single day, especially when he was going to bed or waking up. Today was just a little different because it felt like she'd reached out of his past yesterday to shape his present and future. He hadn't realized she'd told Steve that he wanted a normal arm. She had never admitted it back then. She’d just done it because she cared.

He extended his left arm out over the empty side of the bed, feeling cool sheets and nothingness. A space only she could fill. The arm processed sensation better. In addition to the guards for durability, the fake skin had tiny receptors that picked up texture, temperature, and pressure. It was almost like feeling though a thin rubber sleeve. Definitely a step up from what he’d had. He wished she was there so he could hold her properly with both arms.

The hearing the afternoon he’d left her had been a blur. He'd been raw with emotion and the attorney Stark had hired to sit next to him had barely let him talk, but it had all worked out according to plan.

T’Challa and Wakanda were rebuilding, begrudgingly accepting assistance from the United States and a handful of other European countries. Fury and his fledgling intelligence organization was trying to expose HYDRA operatives in Russia with only minor success. The big guys were just too well-insulated.

Bucky was anxious to help, though going undercover wasn't an option. Now that he had his arm back he could at least pull his own weight in a fight.

The alarm on the cell Steve gave him went off. Sam would be by in twenty minutes for their session. His stomach turned at the thought. The sessions were his least favorite part of each day.

He got up and pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Sighing, Bucky pulled the T-shirt back off and threw it in the floor. It was Steve’s and he only knew that because it was two sizes too small. Must have gotten mixed up in the wash. The little kid he knew from decades ago still hadn’t figured out he couldn’t wear a medium. Or maybe he knew exactly what he was doing, because Bucky had seen more than a few women turn their heads to stare at Steve in his itty-bitty T-shirts.

He found an extra large shirt and pulled it on instead. He dreaded these sessions so much, but he knew they had to happen. When Bucky had first discussed the therapy with Sam and a psychologist who worked with the V.A., they had asked him to write down the list of words that triggered his programming. Bucky had, of course, refused. He knew the words well enough, but they terrified him, and he wasn’t about to put them in writing on a sheet of paper. Wasn’t about to give two men he barely knew such control over him. They’d explained that the goal was to desensitize the words until they meant nothing. He understood the concept, but it had taken him a couple weeks to finally agree.

Sam and Steve alternated days because neither of them had the entire list. Bucky didn’t trust anyone with the list, really. But he trusted Steve not to give his half of the words to Sam, and after weeks of talking with Sam almost every day, he’d learned to trust Sam almost as much.

He poured a cup of coffee and sat at the kitchen table and waited. Sam knocked on the door just after nine o’clock. “You’re late,” Bucky said, opening the door and walking back into the kitchen.

“Good morning to you, too,” Sam replied, shutting the door behind himself and following Bucky over to the table. He had a notepad tucked under his arm and he was in a suit. He normally wasn’t, and it bothered Bucky.

“What’s with the monkey suit?”

Sam looked down at his silk tie. “Q and A before the subcommittee later today. They’re still all up in our business, and _not_ because of you, princess. Because of the Accords being a big old flop two years ago. People are still nervous and half of those assholes are up for re-election next year. Gotta look like they’re doing something.”

“Oh,” Bucky said, glad he hadn’t been called to answer questions. He would be once he started participating in missions. It was unavoidable.

“Hey, I like the arm, man. Lookin’ real good,” Sam said, reaching across the small table and bumping it with his fist. No one had really touched him since the procedure and the feel of Sam’s knuckles on the flesh fabric was strange.

“Thanks,” Bucky said, staring into his coffee.

Sam sat back and crossed his ankle over his knee. “How do you feel about it?”

“The arm? It’s good. Nice to have two hands again.”

“Step up from what you had, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Sam uncapped his pen and sat it diagonally across the notepad. “They worked pretty hard on it the past couple months.”

Bucky didn’t want to think about it; it made him uncomfortable that so many people had been involved when he didn’t deserve any of it. Sam damn well knew that and was just poking him, trying to get a reaction. “Yeah,” he said, sipping his coffee and avoiding eye contact.

“You deserve it, man,” Sam said.

“Shut the fuck up,” Bucky muttered, irritated that Sam got like this sometimes. That he tried to build him up and make him feel better about his sorry ass.

“Shame they didn’t give you something to take care of your bad attitude,” Sam replied. “You ready to get started?”

“Yeah, let’s do it.”

“Let’s do homecoming and benign today.”

“Yeah, okay,” Bucky muttered. He was going to sit here and listen to Sam use the words in sentences, making associations in his brain separate from the programming. It was tedious and boring, yet it still somehow made him sick to his stomach.

///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\

**[7:21pm, August 19th, New York]**

“You should think about testing yourself,” Steve said, fiddling with the label on his bottle of beer. They were both drinking, but not getting drunk, and Bucky could really use some black-out drunk in his life. He’d just sat there and listened to Steve talk about daybreak and furnace for the past hour. He missed Darcy and had spent the past few nights staring at the empty pillow next to him. It had been three months, almost to the day, since he’d last seen her. He wondered if she’d moved on, hoping she had and feeling deep, consuming jealousy and hatred for whoever that guy was. Would this future asshole make her come like he had? Would he cook breakfast for her? Would he love her enough? Would he treat her like she deserved to be treated? Would he even know what he fucking had in her? Probably not.

“Buck?”

“What?” Bucky snapped.

“I said you should think about testing yourself.”

His stomach flip-flopped. “I’m not ready for that.”

“Sam thinks you are. I can read my half of the words to you without you feeling anything. In English and in Russian.” Steve paused and looked Bucky in the eyes. “You’re not even anxious. You used to be.”

“I don’t want to test it yet.”

Steve sighed. “You’re going to have to eventually. Don’t you want to move on with your life?”

“Move on to what? Missions?”

“You could call her, you know.”

Bucky frowned. “What?”

“I thought you were waiting… until you got your triggers under control.”

“What? To call her? To be with her?”

“Yeah,” Steve said.

Bucky pushed himself back from the table and stood. He opened the fridge and pulled out another beer, knocking the entire bottle back while he stood there with the door open. He pulled out two more and sat down across from Steve again. Yeah, nothing. Not even a fucking buzz. “I told you that it’s over. That’s not something I should have in my life.”

“Bucky, I think you’re being…”

“Shut the fuck up, Steve. I’m being realistic. Don’t feed me your line of bullshit.”

Steve twisted the cap off the second bottle of beer and took a swig. “Okay, then. Missions. You can’t start fighting them until we know you’re safe. We could have used you on the operation in the Ukraine a couple weeks ago.”

“So, you’re gonna guilt me into it, now?” Bucky said, sitting back in the kitchen chair and trying not to let his bad attitude spill out too much.

Steve shook his head. “No, jerk. I’m just saying, you can’t keep yourself in this limbo forever. We can test you in a controlled environment. Nobody will get hurt.”

Bucky filled his lungs with a deep breath, held it for five seconds, and then slowly blew it out. Talking about his programming always made him anxious even if the words didn’t any longer. “Who would do it?”

“Who do you want to do it? Me or Sam? And don’t worry about hurting feelings because this is about you, not us.”

“I… I don’t want you to think I don’t trust you. Because I do. I just… I…” Bucky trailed off, unable to explain what he was feeling. The programming was a vulnerability, something he’d lived with for a very long time, and as much as he trusted Steve with his life, and was beginning to learn to trust Sam–mostly because Steve trusted him–it was still a hard thing to hand over all his control. Right now he had the illusion of it because he had divided the triggers between them, even though they could easily share them. It would be different if one of them had the entire list. His life wouldn’t feel like his any longer.

“Hey,” Steve said. “It’s okay, Buck. If you’re not ready, you’re not ready.”

“I don’t want to feel like I don’t have control.”

“You have control,” Steve assured him. “You’re calling the shots. No test until you’re ready, and you pick the person. Anyone you want. _Anyone_.”

And just like that he knew who he wanted it to be. Her. He’d give her all the words. Nothing against Steve, who would never use them against him. It was just that the words were a vulnerability and she’d already seen all of his. But he couldn’t call her and ask her to help him after three long months, especially when he’d told her that they didn’t have a future together. It would just be like using her.

“Buck?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Bucky said, chugging the beer in his hand. They sat there in silence for several minutes before Bucky cleared his throat and said, “You think the experiments—the serum—made us sterile?”

Steve looked up, his brows furrowed. “Uh, I don't know. I, I mean, I guess I've never really thought about it. Why?”

Bucky shrugged. “I was just thinking, you know.”

“About having kids?” Steve seemed surprised, and Bucky really couldn't blame him. He'd never really told anyone other than her that he wanted the whole American pie kind of life.

“I don't know. I guess… playing house with her got me thinking about things. Things I can't have.”

“Like kids?”

“Sure. Or marriage or a house or weekend barbeques.” He paused and looked up from his beer. “You ever think about it? What you gave up for this?”

Steve looked almost as sad as Bucky felt. “Yeah, sometimes. Don't help much to dwell on it.”. He sighed and said, “I gotta believe that we could have that if we want. If we find the right girl that could deal with all this.”

“I don’t know how it could ever work,” Bucky admitted.

Steve just shrugged again. “Same as anything, I guess. You want it enough, then you work at it, you compromise. You thinking about her?”

“Yeah. Ain't nobody else. She… she made me feel like a person again. Like I could remember who I was before all this mess. Not that I could ever forget this, but that I could just be normal again.”

“She want kids?” Steve asked.

It was Bucky's turn to shrug. “I don't know. She said it's not a dealbreaker, but…”

“I think maybe you should call her.”

“Nah. I… I’d just be stringing her along with nothing to offer.”

“Why don't you get tested?”

“For what?”

Steve peeled away the edge of the label on his beer. “To see if you can have kids. Kinda wondered that myself. We could go together.”

Bucky chuckled. “I ain't jerking you off, punk.”

“And I ain't letting you. They got girlie mags for that.”

“You looking at porn now, Stevie? Things sure have changed since we were kids. I remember you throwing away that magazine I swiped from the dime store because you said it was dirty. When was that? Back when we were fourteen, fifteen?”

“Around about. Ain't no kid anymore, Buck.”

///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\

**[2:42pm, August 26th, New York]**

Bucky pressed the keys on his phone that would type in his password. While he hadn’t been living under the new identity provided by the government, he did use it for a bank account. There was a small amount of risk involved if the account and name were traced back to him, but it wasn’t likely, and it hadn’t really mattered until now because the account had been empty for over a month.

It wasn’t empty any longer. The compensation they had pushed the Congressional subcommittee for had finally been approved and processed. There were six figures displayed across his phone screen. It was abstract and didn’t feel real, and it didn’t really matter because he didn’t need money. Steve was back on the payroll of some shell organization funded by the government in some round-about way and the apartment building was owned by a trust established by Howard Stark for benefit of his one-and-only child. But it did feel good to know he didn’t have to rely on the generosity of everyone around him to stay off the streets.

A knock on the door made him jump and clear the screen of his phone. It was Sam for his scheduled session. He let the other man in and sat down at the kitchen table.

“When you gonna take the jump, Bucky?” Sam asked.

“What jump?”

Sam raised his brows as if the question was a dumb one, and it was. Sam and Steve had been on his ass for the past few days about letting one of them read the entire list of words to make sure his programming was gone.

“I’m not ready.” It was the truth, in a way. He wasn’t ready to admit that the only person he wanted to recite those words to him was Darcy. He wasn’t ready to call her and ask if she could help save his life again. He wasn’t ready to see her again, or he was ready, but he knew it would be bad news for him. Because he’d been dreaming about her, reaching out to the empty space beside him when he woke in the morning.

Sometimes when he closed his eyes he could imagine himself back in the little bedroom in New Mexico. He could smell her citrus bodywash in the air. He just couldn’t seem to remember her touch as well as he remembered her scent. It was frustrating.

Steve walked into the kitchen and leaned against the windowsill. “You need to do this for yourself, Buck. We can do it in a controlled room with you behind bulletproof glass a foot thick. Tony has a place for something like this; it’s where he and Dr. Banner were working on treating Dr. Banner’s… condition.”

Sam nodded. “I’ll give Steve my set of words, and we’ll unplug the security feeds. No one will know but you and him.”

“I want her,” Bucky blurted out.

Both men looked at him, eyes wide. “Who?” Sam asked.

When Bucky didn’t answer, Steve said, “I’ll call her. Unless you want to.”

“I can’t,” Bucky admitted. “I can’t ask her to do this for me. She’s already done enough.”

“She who?” Sam asked, looking over his shoulder at Steve.

“Darcy,” Steve said.

“The woman we left him with at the place in New Mexico?” Sam grinned at Bucky. “You two got along, then?”

“Yeah,” Bucky replied, “too well.”

Sam’s grin got bigger. “Oh, yeah? You been holding out on me, Barnes? Details.”

“Fuck off,” Bucky said, getting up and walking over to the sink. He didn’t know what he was doing, but he needed to do something or he was going to lose his mind. He couldn't call her and tell her to come save his sorry ass again. Their goodbye in New Mexico was supposed to be their only goodbye. He couldn't bring her here and do it all over again.

When Bucky turned around to look at them, Steve was shaking his head at Sam, warning the other man not to press the line of questions about what happened with Darcy. “I'll contact Thor and get her number. She was told to destroy the burner cell after we left,” Steve said.

Bucky felt like he was on the verge of an anxiety attack. His skin was damp with sweat and his heart was pounding in his chest. “No, I can't ask her to do this.”

“You're not,” Steve said. “I am. Give me some time to get in touch with Thor. He's been out of pocket lately.”

“It's eight, zero, four, eight, seven, four, four, two, one, seven.” Even after three months, he knew the number by heart. He doubted he’d ever forget. Saying it out loud took him back to that bedroom, her wrapped up in the white sheet and demanding he repeat the numbers to her.

Steve pulled out his phone and looked at Bucky, waiting for his friend to repeat it. Feeling a weight in the bottom of his stomach, Bucky rattled the numbers off again while Steve typed them into his phone. Much to Bucky's relief, he didn't actually call her right then. Bucky wasn't sure if he could stand there and keep his sanity knowing that she was on the other end of Steve's phone.

“If she says no, then you accept that,” he told Steve. A big part of him hoped she would tell Steve to fuck off. It'd be so much easier if she just hated him for leaving her, but he knew better than that. She’d say yes.

///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\

**[6:12pm, August 28th, New York]**

The ripped envelope was on his bed with the half sheet of paper containing the lab results. A week ago he and Steve had gone to a clinic to give samples. It had been awkward and lonely and made Bucky feel depressed and dirty. He'd sat alone in the room they'd provided, surrounded by porn mags. Instead of using them, he'd just sat back and thought of her. It hurt that he couldn't remember how she felt when he was deep inside her. He just remembered she was perfect, certainly better than his hand.

The results had arrived in the mail earlier that day, and Bucky finally caved and took his into the privacy of his bedroom to read. He told himself that if it was good news, if he could have kids, that he'd call her and ask for her help with his programming. He didn't think Steve had done so yet. If it was bad news, then he'd tell Steve not to call her at all.

It was bad news. He was as sterile as he could be, and it felt like he'd lost her all over again. He sat there, propped against the headboard and stared at the damning paper that had sealed his fate, confirmed that he couldn't give her any kind of life. Just danger and hiding from it. No house or marriage or kids or block parties or family nights or…

“Bucky, you in there?” Steve asked, knocking on the cracked door before pushing it open.

“Hey, punk,” he told Steve. “You just get home?”

“Yeah. Your results, what'd they say?” Steve asked, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe.

“No kids,” Bucky said, nodding at the sheet and feeling empty inside.

“Shit, Buck. I'm sorry.”

“You open yours?”

“Yeah." Steve nodded and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He was uncomfortable and so easy to read.

“You're okay.” Bucky said it as a statement, not a question.

Steve looked down at the floor. “Yeah.”

When his friend finally looked back up to meet his gaze, Bucky forced a smile. “I'm happy for you, punk.” He knew it was a possibility. The serum he'd received was slightly different and he'd undergone more experimental procedures than Steve. He wouldn't have been surprised if one of those procedures had been done specifically to sterilize him. Weapons didn't get women pregnant. Weapons didn't have feelings or desires. They just killed.

“There are other ways to have a family, Bucky.”

He shook his head. “That ain't for me. It's good it came back negative. Shouldn't be thinking about that shit anyway.” He looked from the paper on the bed to Steve. “Don't call her. You and me will do this. Whenever you want.”

“That's what I came in here to tell you. She’s on her way. Her flight leaves London tomorrow. She'll be here by five o'clock in the afternoon.”

For a fleeting moment, Bucky felt elation over the prospect of seeing her in twenty-four hours. Dread and shame and anxiety came in fast to rip the elation from his chest like it had never really belonged there at all. “No,” Bucky told Steve. “I can’t.”

“She was so happy to hear from me, Buck. I told her that you needed her help, and she agreed before I even told her what it was. Just like that. Not a question. That's something more important than a piece of paper,” Steve said, gesturing toward the fertility report.

“Fuck,” Bucky muttered under his breath. He looked up at Steve and said, “When are we doing it?”

“Tomorrow at six. I'll pick her up and bring her to Stark's lab. We'll meet you there.”

When Bucky didn't reply, Steve excused himself and shut the bedroom door. He rolled onto his side and pulled the pillow next to him back against his chest. How was he going to be in the same room with her and not touch her? How was he supposed to keep his head straight with her around? How was he supposed to pretend like this was normal and just a friend helping out a friend?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I often listen to music when writing. If you'd like to hear some of the songs that inspired this fic or helped me write it, you can find my playlist in [this neat little graphic](http://i.imgur.com/kDhBmfU.jpg). All the songs should be available by searching YouTube.


	16. Chapter 16

This lovely banner was made by [theeone007](https://theeone007.tumblr.com) on Tumblr because she's nice and awesome and offered to make me a pretty graphic.

 

> “Get the wheel, let’s go for a ride. If you’re trouble then I’ll follow you down.” - Follow You Down (The Twilight Singers)

**[6:13pm, August 29th, New York]**

The room had one entrance and reinforced steel walls on three sides. The fourth wall was thick glass, probably bulletproof. Bucky stood on the outside and looked in at the single metal chair in the center of the rectangular chamber. The chair was bolted to the floor. He felt sick. Not just because he’d agreed to sit in that room and listen to someone read his programming trigger words over the speaker like some kind of lab rat, but because that person was going to be _her_.

“I want you to know that that I trust Steve. And you,” he said to the only other person in the room.

Sam was leaning against the wall by the exit of the small observation room they were in. His arms were crossed, and he looked casual in a white T-shirt and jeans. “I know you trust us, Barnes,” Sam replied.

Bucky sighed and walked the length of the narrow room, down and back again. “Do you think I’m doing this because I wanted to see her again?”

Sam didn’t know much about his relationship with Darcy. Bucky had thought Steve would have said something, but Steve had always been good at keeping his mouth shut. That kid was loyal to a fault. “Probably,” Sam said. “But it sounds like you trust her, too.”

Bucky nodded and resumed his pacing. “I think you and Steve should stay in case it goes wrong.”

“You won’t hurt her,” Sam said. “If we’re wrong and the triggers still work, then she’ll be your handler. You would do anything she said.”

Bucky had given that too much thought, and he was somewhat horrified to admit he didn’t mind that, might even want it to happen. If she could control him, then she could make him stay with her. He could have what he wanted without the guilt of being the one who made a selfish choice to keep her in his life. In reality, he knew that she’d never ask anything of him if she knew he couldn’t choose. That was part of the reason why he’d wanted her.

Steve and Sam wouldn’t ask him to do anything either, but there was just something in him that needed this to be her. “I think I’m making her do this just because I wanted to see her. That makes me an asshole.”

Sam smiled. “Maybe a little manipulative. Did you plan it out? Was that your intention all along?”

“No,” Bucky said quickly. “God, no. I just… when you and Steve started pushing me to do this… This, it feels like being exposed, and I wanted her because she’s seen me at my worst. She’s seen everything, and she knows me. And she’s…”

Sam waited for him to finish, but Bucky didn’t know how to explain it. Finally, Sam said, “You had her number, so why didn’t you use it?”

“I’m not good enough for her. I’d just fuck up her life.”

“Does she want you in her life?”

Bucky swallowed and turned to look at the metal chair behind the glass. “Says she does.”

“You want to be in her life?”

“Yes. No. I can’t be there.” Bucky looked at Sam, but the other man didn’t say anything. “She says I’m punishing myself.”

“What do you think?”

“That she’s naive and doesn’t know that I’m a danger to her. Even if I’m deprogrammed, I’m still a danger. There are people out there who would use her against me.”

Sam nodded and then said, “There are other people who have relationships and have enemies. How do you think they handle it?”

“I don’t know. Hope nothing goes wrong? I’ve already done enough terrible shit. I don’t need another innocent body on my hands. Especially not hers.”

“Okay,” Sam replied. “That’s understandable. Are there any steps you could take or things you could change that would make a relationship with her safer?”

“No.”

“Well,” Sam replied, “whether they would give you absolute certainty that she wouldn’t be used against you is another thing, but there _are_ ways to make it safer, and if you won’t consider them, then maybe she’s right. Maybe you _are_ punishing yourself.”

Bucky felt agitated. He’d wanted someone to agree with him, but Sam wasn’t playing along. He was trying to pull some mind game where it sounded like he agreed at first, but really he was trying to convince you otherwise. It was irritating. “Where is he?” Bucky asked, checking his watch and changing the topic of conversation. It was twenty after six.

Sam pulled his phone out of his back pocket. “He said they’d be here in ten minutes about fifteen minutes ago. So, any time now.”

“I’m going in the room,” Bucky said, moving toward the door that looked like it belonged on a vault in a bank.

“Don’t you want to wait out here for her?”

“No, she’s here to read the words from a safe distance. I’ll wait in here.”

“Sounds like a punishment,” Sam said, a light warning in his voice.

“It’s goddamn common sense, Wilson,” Bucky snapped, pulling the door shut behind himself. “Lock it,” he told Sam from inside the room.

Sam just shook his head and twisted the lever that sent steel bars into the frame of the door. For a moment, Bucky had a flashback of the door of the cryo chamber locking. His right palm was sweaty, and his breathing was labored. Sam noticed and moved to unlock the door.

“No!” Bucky said, holding out a hand and trying to calm himself. “Leave it.”

Through the speakers, he heard the sound of the door to the observation room open. His heart kicked up into his throat as he moved to sit down in the chair.

“Where is he?” It was her voice, but all he could see was Sam’s back. Bucky closed his eyes and tried to stop his hands from shaking. This was all too much. Her being here. The first real test to see if he’d removed that shit from his head. The certainty that he couldn’t have a family–like that had ever even been an option. Sam agreeing with her that he was just being manipulative and using her to hurt himself. Which was fucking bullshit.

When he opened his eyes, she was standing on the other side of the glass, right in front of him. Only a few feet separated them. She was even more beautiful than he remembered with her long, dark hair pulled back with little rainbow clips. She had on a pair of khaki shorts and an oversized Captain America T-shirt on. He gave a broken laugh at her wardrobe choice. The look in her eyes stopped him from making a comment on it, though. She looked gutted, like someone had given her horrible news.

“What are you doing in there?” she asked.

“It’s for everyone’s safety,” he said. “Don’t I get a hello?”

“Hey, asshole,” she said, giving him a weak smile, and then she turned to Steve and said, “Open the door.”

And just like that, Steve walked over to flip the lever. What a fucking punk. Leave it to her to wrap a grown man around her finger during a forty minute car ride from the airport. “Leave it,” he told Steve.

His best friend since twelve just shrugged and pulled open the door. Traitor. Bucky didn’t think about anything else but her after that, though, because she walked into the room and settled her gaze on him again. “Your arm looks nice,” she said.

She was five feet away. He could smell her body wash, and all those memories were hitting him hard. The way she giggled as he rolled her over in their bed. The way she kissed his neck and played with his hair. The way her lips felt on his mouth and his cock. The way she’d looked at him the morning she’d told him she loved him. Which was pretty close to the way she was looking at him right now.

“Thanks,” he whispered, lifting it up and rolling his shoulder, but not daring to get out of the chair. If he stood then he might go to her and make a bigger mess of this.

“Do you like it?” she asked.

“I do. Thank you.”

She put a hand on a hip she’d jutted out. “Why are you thanking me? I don’t know the first thing about prosthetic arms.”

“Someone told me that you’re responsible for the way it looks.”

She smiled. “I just made a suggestion, but I’m impressed. It looks almost real. If I just glanced, I wouldn’t notice.” She stepped closer, and he felt his body tense. “Why did Steve call me? Why didn’t you call me?”

“You don’t want to hear from me. I told you to move on.”

She was in front of him now, almost between his knees. How did she get this close? “Well, I got a newsflash for you, Bucky,” she said. “Just because you told me to move on doesn’t mean I have. Or will.”

“Darcy,” he said, looking up as he gripped the edges of the seat.

“Can I try out your new arm?”

“What?”

She turned and sat down on his lap sideways, her right arm going around his shoulders. Without a thought, both of his arms came up to hold her there. The left wrapped around her waist until the fingertips of his prosthetic were resting on the fabric over her abdomen. His right hand slipped over her knees. Darcy smiled and wiggled on his lap, leaning back into the left arm. “Feels good,” she said.

It did. Better than good. It felt amazing. It felt so fucking right to have her there on his lap. A moment ago he’d been feeling the distance and the time that had been between them, but all that seemed to shrink down to nothing with her so close. “It does,” he simply replied. “What’s with the shirt?”

She looked down at Steve’s shield on the shirt. “Just having fun. Not everyday Captain America picks me up at the airport. Figured I should help him figure out who I am.”

“I think he might have seen your chest a few months back when he came to pick me up. I’m pretty sure he knows who you are.”

She smiled at him, and it almost knocked him backward out of the chair. It felt like old times. Part of him had tried to believe that whatever they had was confined to a tiny house in the middle of northern New Mexico. It was very clear now that this wasn't true. It traveled, and he could feel it right there even in the middle of all this mess with his programming.

“I’m glad you asked for me,” she said softly, chewing on her lower lip. Her voice was for his ears only. “I missed you.”

“Doll, I…”

When he couldn't finish his thought, she said, “It's okay. I know you missed me, too.”

Bucky pressed his forehead into the center of her chest and tightened his arms around her. “I did, but we can't do this. I'm so bad for you. I can't give you anything.”

Her left hand was stroking his hair. “Don't be silly,” she whispered. “I could have sworn you gave me like a gazillion orgasms.”

Bucky's laugh was almost a sob. When he lifted his head to look at her, he caught sight of Steve and Sam, watching from the corner of the observation room. It wasn’t the time or place for this conversation. Sam might not have heard what she'd just said, but he knew Steve had.

“Are you okay with doing this?” he asked.

She ran her fingers through his hair, and it made him shiver in pleasure. “Reading off some words? Sure.”

“If they work then I'll be under your control. You need to be careful what you say.”

“Sooo... I shouldn't ask you to do me against the wall? Got it.”

“Darcy, you know Steve has hearing as good as mine, right?”

She glanced out into the observation room and narrowed her eyes at the Steve. “Hey, plug your ears. Private convo going on.”

Steve had the decency to blush and turn away, muttering something under his breath to Sam, who threw his head back and laughed. Bucky was glad everyone else was having fun because he felt like he was being pulled apart. His brain was starting to concoct a future with her, an apartment in Brooklyn, waking up to her hands all over him, reading the newspaper while she made eggs and bacon for breakfast. All that and more. Things he couldn't have.

“You need to go out there with them and read the list. First in English, and then in Russian.”

“I'll do it from right here.” Her voice was firm and serious. He wasn't winning this argument.

“Doll, this isn't a joke. We need to be safe.”

“We are,” she said. And then, without so much as a warning, she said, “Longing, rusted, seventeen, daybreak, furnace, nine, benign, homecoming, one, freight car.”

Darcy looked down into his face and shifted her sweet little ass on his lap. Bucky didn't feel a damn thing other than frustration that she wasn't taking this seriously and the overwhelming need to get her alone for a few minutes. Or hours.

“Dance around like a monkey, soldier,” she demanded, the corners of her mouth lifting.

“Not a chance in hell, sweetheart.” Turning her down had never felt so good, but this was the easy part of the test. The words and commands had always been given in Russian. “Do you know how to say them in Russian?” he asked.

She twisted and pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket. “I took Russian in high school, but I was terrible at it, so I've got it all phonetically here.”

Bucky swallowed hard. “I really think you should go in the other room and shut this door.”

“No. Steve, you wanna shut the door?” she called out into the observation room. “Protect you two delicate flowers out there?”

Sam laughed and Steve shook his head, smiling at her.

“None of us are afraid of you,” she told him. She looked down at the crumpled and worn piece of paper that she'd probably been going over for hours on her way to him. “You ready?” she asked.

Bucky sighed and said, “No, but I never will be.”

Carefully, and in a poor accent, Darcy slowly recited the words in Russian, looking up from the paper and into his eyes after she said each one. Before he’d always started feeling anxiety and the sensation of being boxed in when someone said them. He felt nothing other than wonder at his freedom now. And even though her accent was horrible, her pronunciation was spot on. After she said the last word, she looked up at him and gave him that small smile that she’d sometimes given him in bed after they'd wrecked each other. “Go over there and hump the wall,” she whispered.

God, it felt so fucking good to tell her, “No way,” with a smile on his face.

Her smile widened, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him to her. Bucky felt tears stinging his eyes. He rapidly blinked them away. Steve was standing in the doorway, looking expectant and nervous. He wanted to know if things were okay.

“I’m fine, punk,” Bucky said. “Can you give us a minute?”

Steve’s face broke into a smile almost as big as Darcy’s. “Yeah, sure.” Within a few seconds, he and Sam had cleared out.

Bucky felt like this test should be a bigger deal to him. It felt great to finally be free of the programming, but having her on his lap with her arms wrapped around his neck felt pretty damn great, too. The past week had been exhausting with too many emotional highs and lows, and now he had exactly what he wanted in his arms, and he didn’t know how to let her go again.

“How does it feel?” she asked, pulling back and looking at him.

“I don’t know. I… I think I should feel more. Like, I should be celebrating, but it just feels like a long time coming. Not really something that makes me happy, more like a burden I don’t have to carry any more. That feels good.”

“You’ve been carrying a lot of shit around,” she agreed.

He lifted one corner of his mouth in a half-smile. “I have. I think I always will. You just don’t forget about the things I’ve done. But… one less burden. That’s something.”

She licked her lips and looked down into his eyes, suddenly serious. “I missed you. A lot. Every single day.”

“Doll, don’t…”

“How have you been?”

He nodded and tightened his arms just a little more around her. “I’ve been okay.”

“Just okay?”

“Just okay,” he agreed.

“Probably because you don’t have me around. I make things great,” she said.

He knew that all too well. A very big reason he was just okay was because she wasn’t around, but okay was good enough. Okay was surviving and trying to make a difference. Okay was all he deserved. “Steve said you were in London.”

“I’m like a balloon tied to Jane’s wrist,” she said. “Where there is expensive science equipment available for use, we will go. I was thinking maybe I’d find a grad student who wanted some credits.”

“To assist you?”

“To assist Jane. I’ve done my duty to science. Kinda want to think about my own life now. You know?”

“What would you do?” he asked, feeling like his heart was beating in his throat.

Darcy shrugged. “You.”

“Me?”

She rolled her eyes and pressed a whisper-soft kiss to the tip of his nose. “You asked me what I’d do, and I said I’d do you. My witty repartee is wasted on you.”

He chuckled and slipped a hand underneath her ridiculous Captain America shirt to rub the fingertips of his prosthetic against her back. He could sense the warmth and smoothness of her skin in more definition than he’d ever have been able to do with the old metal hand. He’d never known her during that time. He’d never touched her with that one. Which was good; it had been a weapon. What he had now was just an arm. “I’m being serious, doll. What do you want to do?”

“I was being serious, too. Would it scare the shit out of you if I moved to New York? Maybe we could see each other? Like, not holed up in a rental in the middle of nowhere, but see each other for real. I’m thinking like the traditional thing. Except, I’m not being traditional because I’m kinda asking you on a date right now.”

His heart felt so tender, confined in the small space he’d allotted it in his chest. She made him want to be better and do better and live his life like he didn’t have a past filled with death and war. She made him want to actually use his heart for something other than keeping his blood moving through his veins. Except, every time he started concocting the imaginary world of Bucky and Darcy in his head, he thought about her being held hostage in a locked cage in a HYDRA facility. Or her being stood in front of him with a gun to her temple, the threat to him being to joint HYDRA or they’d kill her. Or even her a year or two down the line, resentful of him because he traveled too much, put himself in too much danger, and couldn’t give her anything beside a good fuck when he rolled in the door after a too-long mission. No security, no family, no kids. Those thoughts just killed every future he could think of with her.

“Doll, that’s not a good idea. I’m not…”

“Are you telling me no?”

“I’m telling you I can’t. We can’t. Trust me when I tell you that it would all fall apart one way or another.”

She stood up and looked down at him, hands on hips. “Are you that much of a commitment-phobe that you won't even see where this would go with me?”

“I know where it would go.” He could just see it in her eyes already. That disappointment of knowing she’d wasted months or years of her life on some stupid asshole that couldn’t give her anything in return.

“So, you really just asked me to come to read those stupid words to you? That’s all this was about?”

“I thought Steve told you.”

“Steve told me you needed me, and I started booking the flight on my laptop before he finished. I didn’t care what it was about. I just wanted to see you.”

“And I wanted to see you, but we can’t do this. You’d just be disappointed in me in the end.”

“Look at you. You’ve got a new arm. You’ve got a HYDRA-free brain. You’ve got a place to live. You’ve got a _life_. And I wanted you before you had _any_ of it. Why the fuck would I be disappointed?”

“I don’t want to argue with you,” he said.

There was a soft knock at the door before it slowly pushed open. Steve’s face appeared in the crack, but his eyes were shut. “Are you both decent?”

“We’ve very decent,” Darcy replied, the attitude coming off her in waves. It made him feel like an idiot, but it also turned him on more than a little.

Steve’s eyes opened. “You two wanna leave? You’re staying with us, right, Darcy?”

Bucky opened his mouth to say no, but nothing came out. Maybe because he was a glutton for punishment and manipulative just like Sam had accused him of being.

“Yes, Steve,” she said sweetly. “I’d love to stay at your place.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has been reading and commenting. You're all wonderful people and make this chick happy.


	17. Chapter 17

> “You kept on thinking you were the only one. Too busy thinking love is a gun.” - Bullet Proof Soul (Sade)

**[7:29pm, August 29th, New York]**

She’d sat in the backseat with him while Steve drove. Bucky had spent the thirty-five minute drive trying to figure out what he was doing, and why he’d not pulled Steve aside and begged him not to do this to him. It was bad enough that he hadn't been able to make a clean break with her, that he’d let her back into his life in a moment of weakness, but it was worse to let her into what had become his home and let her imprint herself over everything. Because when she had to leave–and she would leave–it was going to be that much worse. He’d have memories of her standing in the kitchen or sitting on the couch or in his bed. Or not. He couldn’t let her do that. It would be _too_ manipulative to sleep with her and then tell her that they didn’t have a future together. He didn’t want to get her hurt down the line, but he definitely didn’t want to hurt her now either.

Steve had made a lame excuse about a meeting he had to attend, so he’d drop them at the door to the building.That punk knew exactly what he was doing in leaving the two of them alone in the apartment. Bucky's feelings on that were divided. He wanted to be alone with her, but he also knew it would only complicate things and make it worse. And yet, he’d let it happen. He’d hadn’t fought too hard to put a stop to the situation he was in right now, leading her up the staircase and over to the unassuming door of Captain America’s apartment. What looked like a typical wooden door was actually reinforced with steel and a high tech security system that could read your fingerprints on the doorknob.

The apartment was lit by the tall windows that almost reached the vaulted ceilings. The large leather sectional had a couple throw pillows on it, and the television hanging on the wall was off. The kitchen was clean because he'd wiped down the counters and loaded the dishwasher that morning.

“Wow, nice pad,” she said, stepping around him to look her fill. Steve had hung some of his finished art on the walls, and she immediately gravitated over to the one closest to the door.

“It’s Steve’s place,” Bucky said.

“It’s nice. Feels open without being cold. I like it.” She looked over her shoulder at him “Do you?”

Bucky shoved his hands in his pockets because he didn’t know what to do with them if they weren’t holding her. “Like the apartment? Sure. It’s nice.” But I liked your little house better, he thought.

She walked around the sectional sofa that served to separate the living area from the entrance. Her fingertips trailed over the leather cushions as she made her way past him and further into the apartment. Bucky watched her as she walked over to the windows and took in the view. It was mostly other buildings, but there was a narrow break in the concrete and brick that gave you a glimpse of Manhattan across the river.

He kept his mouth shut as she moved into the short hall that led to the two bedrooms and the bathroom. She poked her head in Steve’s room first, and then she poked her head into his. “These bedrooms are huge,” she said, disappearing into his room. Steve’s room was neat and not that different from Bucky’s, but he had an easel in the corner that gave him away.

Closing his eyes, Bucky sighed. He wanted to give in and just be happy. Steve would let her move in with them; he wouldn’t even question it. Bucky would love to wake up to her in his king-size bed every single morning. He didn’t have to fight so hard against what felt so good. Just when he’d talked himself into it, he remembered why he was fighting it–that she’d just end up disappointed with him. Or she’d end up dead, which would kill him.

He slowly walked down the hall and leaned against the doorframe, his hands still deep in his pockets to keep from reaching out to her. She was standing by one of the narrow windows. Her feet were bare and her sandals were on the floor next to him. She looked like a dream, standing there in his bedroom after all those months of haunting his fantasies.

“I’m glad you have a beautiful place to live,” she said, her back still to him. “I was worried you’d try to live in a squat house because you don’t think you deserve anything better.”

He blinked, holding his eyes closed for a couple seconds in an attempt to find some composure. When he opened them, she had turned around. “Honestly, that’s probably all I deserve,” he said, “but I seem to have these people in my life–like you and Steve, even Sam–who think different.”

“Maybe you should listen to those people. Majority rules, you know.”

“Those people don’t know what’s in me, deep down.” The words were barely there, only puffs of air leaving his mouth because, as much as he believed them to be true, he didn’t want to admit it to her. She was under the impression he was something more—something better—than he actually was.

Darcy walked over to him and took his face in her hands, forcing him to look down at her. Her hands were warm and dry and gentle. “Are you calling me an idiot?” she asked, raising her brows and quirking one corner of her mouth up in a smile.

He gave an abrupt laugh that sounded almost like a sob. “No, sweetheart. You just don’t… you don’t know everything.”

She let him go, and he felt like his heart broke in that instant. Instead of leaving like he feared she would, she walked over to the bed and fell back onto it, holding herself up with her arms behind her. “So tell me everything. You can skip all the stuff in your file because I’ve read that. Or did you forget?”

“I didn’t forget. I just… I don’t think a piece of paper can show you what happened. How it was.”

She scooted back until she was in the middle of his king-size bed. Her legs were straight out in front of her and crossed at the ankles. She was holding herself up with her palms pressed into the bed behind her and her elbows locked. “Tell me how it was, then, because it’s not going to change a thing.” There was a challenge in her eyes, a dare.

Bucky walked over to the bed and stood beside it, afraid to get into it with her. He was too weak for that not to lead to his face between her legs if she’d let him. “I can’t explain it. I just… I’m not a good person. You deserve someone better.”

She looked up at him and wiggled her nose as she thought. After a long moment of silence, she said. “I’ve had three serious boyfriends and gone on more than a few dates. All of them were decent guys, with the exception of a couple jerks I went out with once and one ex-boyfriend who I would say is a _great_ guy, just not for me. Do you want to guess how many of them treated me like you do? How many of them make me feel like you do?”

He thought he knew the answer to this, but he wanted to hear her say it. “How many?”

Darcy gave him a sad smile. “Zero. Zilch. Not a single one.”

“I can’t have kids,” he blurted out.

“What?” Darcy asked, tilting her head as she looked up at him.

Bucky felt sick. “I… I took a test. A fertility test. The serum or the experiments of Zola’s, they sterilized me.” He turned away from her, wishing he could curl in on himself and disappear, or maybe just sink into the floor and have her forget she’d ever known him.

“Bucky.” When he didn’t turn around, she said his name again. Finally, he turned and found her on her knees in the middle of his bed. “Come here,” she demanded.

He wanted to do what she said so badly. There was gentle comfort in her eyes, and he knew she’d touch him and make him feel better. Make him feel like he wasn’t an animal who was trying to survive. “I can’t do this to you,” he told her, resisting the urge to rub his tight chest.

“Come here,” she repeated. “Don’t you make me come get you.”

He laughed softly under his breath and walked over to the window.

“Bucky, get over here. You think I won’t come wrestle you into this bed? You bet your sweet ass I will.”

He heard her shifting toward the edge of the bed, so he turned around and took the three steps over to the edge of it. She was kneeling in front of him, her head below his chin. She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her cheek against his chest. All he could smell was her body wash and it was bringing him back to all those times months ago when they’d made love.

His fingers twitched as he thought about running them through her hair. “That test doesn’t matter to me. You know that, right?” she whispered.

“It should. You and I do this, then one day you’ll wake up alone while I’m out on some stupid mission, and you’ll regret it all because you won’t have anything.”

She didn’t respond right away. Instead, she pulled him closer, twisting her body to force him into the bed. Bucky finally gave in and let her have her way. They landed sideways in the bed, their legs dangling off the edge, facing each other. She burrowed her way into his arms again and inhaled with her nose pressed into his neck. “You think I haven’t considered that?” she asked. “I thought about it a lot, actually. Back before we’d even kissed. Before you left me. _After_ you left me. I thought about who you are and what your life is like. I thought about how it’s probably lonely to have the person you love running off to fight who knows what and worry that they’ll get hurt or die. I mean, I’ve watched a good friend go through it. It doesn’t look fun, and I’ve thought about it a lot.” Her lips were grazing the skin of his neck as she whispered the words to him.

“Then you understand what I’m saying,” he said, finally feeling like he was getting through to someone. Finally.

“I do. But I don’t think you understand what I’m saying,” she replied, pulling back to look him in the eyes. The room was getting dimmer, but he could still see her features in the fading light from the windows.

“I don’t know _what_ you’re saying,” he whispered back.

“That I thought about all that stuff–all that bad shit–and I still think you’re worth it.”

Bucky blinked, trying to stall the tears from tipping out of his eyes. “But I’m not.”

“You don’t get to decide that.”

“I don’t want you to hate me. Later. When I disappoint you. I can’t give you a house or a family or any kind of stability. It would just be a life on the run, going here and there, no roots. I’m not enough for you.”

“You don’t have to be anything other than you. I don’t need you to give me everything. This isn’t nineteen-forty where the menfolk have to buy cute little houses for their cute little wives and knock ‘em up with two to four kids.”

Bucky laughed softly, bending to press his forehead against her shoulder. “I’m not saying that. I’m just… I’m saying I want something better for you than me.”

Her hands were in his hair, and he wanted to purr it felt so good. “Well,” she said, “let’s just take it one day at a time, then. Today, I want you. Not anyone else. So, stop being a brat and kiss me.”

And like the weak man he was, he gave her exactly what she wanted, not what she needed. He took her face in both his hands and kissed her. Her feel and taste were familiar and infused with such good memories that he felt his willpower blowing away like smoke caught in a strong wind. Now, it was just her and him, and they both wanted this. He wasn’t strong enough to tell her that it wasn’t what was best for her.

She moaned and kissed him back, one hand in his hair and the other pressed into the center of his chest. Bucky slipped one arm around her and pulled her closer. The other hand moved to the back of her head.

Doing this with two hands was a whole new experience. He had more control, more sensation, more ways to touch her. It was exhilarating and heady. Rolling her onto her back, he wedged his hips in between her thighs and lifted her arms above her head by running his hands up the length of them. She let him guide her, offering no resistance. His new left hand was capable of differentiating the fabric of the shirt over her bicep from the soft, smooth skin of her arm. He secured both her arms above her head with his left hand on her wrists while his right slipped beneath the shirt to feel the warmth of her stomach. Her body jumped as his fingers touched the sensitive and ticklish skin over her ribs.

“You're going to drive me crazy,” she told him between gasping breaths. “You were amazing with one hand and now you've got two.”

“I'm really enjoying having two.” He palmed one of her perfect tits, the lace of her bra catching on the callouses of his hand. She arched her back and the movement sent a shot of adrenaline through his veins. If he hadn't been lost in his lust for her before, then he certainly was now. There was no way this was ending any way other than with his cock so deep inside her he didn't know where he ended and she began. Guilt and fear stirred, but he pushed them to the back of his mind because he was weak and in love with her.

Darcy tried to pull her trapped hands out of his grip, but didn't succeed. “I want to touch you,” she said looking up at him with a glazed, drunk look in her eyes. “Let me touch you.”

He worked the fingers of his right hand beneath the stiff underwire of her bra, pushing it up so he could rub circles around her nipples with his thumb. Something he intended on repeating with her clit in a few minutes. The stimulation had her hooking a leg over his hip and tilting her head back. It also had her nipples peaked and so hard they might cut glass. Bucky looked down at her, all flushed with her body begging for him, and felt a rush of blood to his head and to his cock, which had been rising to attention since he’d touched her.

“Fuck, Bucky,” she said on a sharp exhale. “Stop teasing me.”

He was done teasing himself, but not completely finished teasing her, so he let go of her so he could unbutton and unzip her shorts. Immediately, her hands shot out to slip up under his T-shirt. He twisted out of her grasp and yanked her shorts and panties down her legs. The sudden movement tore a gasp from her throat.

He could smell her wetness, sweet and musky and delicious. He thought of how nice it would be to have her for dessert every night. To finish dinner and look forward to his bed so he could spread her legs and eat her until she dug her fingernails into his scalp and screamed his name. What a fucking dream that would be. While he hadn't eaten dinner yet, he was going to be a bad boy and eat his dessert first.

“Oh. My. God,” she muttered as he pulled away from her greedy hands, bent her knees, and slipped them onto his shoulders so he could push them up and leave her pussy open for his mouth and tongue. She was exactly like he'd remembered–warm and soft, and so wet he felt like he could cover her slit with his mouth and drink her juices.

He slipped the middle finger of his right hand all the way inside her while he traced lazy circles around her clit with his tongue. His left hand—the prosthetic—was gently working one of her tits and trying to keep her flat on her back so he could slide his tongue in beside his finger. She was like an insatiable wildcat, rolling her hips and trying to get more of him. He moved the left hand on her tit up to her mouth, and she opened up to suck on his index finger like it was a tiny cock. He lifted his head from her sex and watched as she let him work his middle and index fingers into her hot little mouth.

She was so wanton and filthy that she shorted out his brain and made him lose his inhibitions and preconceptions about how sex should be. With her it was playful and all-consuming desire. It was freeing. Bucky pulled his middle finger out of her pussy and switched hands, letting her suck and lick her own juices off his right hand while he worked the left between her legs and pumped the two fingers covered in her saliva into her tight little pussy. He dipped his head down to nudge her clit, rolling his tongue in circles around it until she was lifting her hips off the bed and giving him a muffled scream around his fingers in her mouth.

She came so hard he could feel the contractions of her walls around the prosthetic fingers deep inside her. He pulled out of her and licked each digit clean with languorous swipes of his tongue while she watched with hazy, blissful eyes. Just when he felt like he had control of the situations and her, she sat up and tackled him, rolling him neatly into his back.

Bucky went with it because whatever she wanted was what he wanted. Once she had him where she wanted him, she knelt between his legs and pulled the shirt with Steve's shield on it over her head. Her bra, which was already crooked from his handiwork, came off next to leave her gloriously naked in the dim light of his bedroom. For a moment he thought he was back in New Mexico, reliving those blissful days of being wrapped up in her, literally and figuratively.

He lifted his hips as she pulled his pants down, wasting no time by bunching his underwear up with them. The clothes ended up thrown on the floor with his shoes, and before Bucky could say a single word, she had wrapped a hand around the base of his cock and bent over to suck him like a popsicle on a hot summer day. “Uh, fuck, doll,” he whispered, “that's so good.”

She looked up at him and let the head of his cock pop out of her mouth audibly. “Mmm, just good? I'll have to try harder then.” His eyes rolled back in his head when she guided his length back into her hot mouth and bobbed up and down, her fist like a vice around the base of his cock. She took him so deep that he felt the head hitting the back of her throat, felt her gag reflex give him a little squeeze, a little friction.

From his vantage point he could see his cock disappearing between her sexy lips and the swing of her tits when she pulled back on the up stroke. Over three months of fucking his right hand hadn't conditioned him to survive this kind of assault, and he said, “You need to stop. I'm gonna come.”

Darcy slipped her mouth off him and ran her tongue down the side of his cock. With her lips pressed to his shaft, she said, “I want you to come in mouth, on my tongue.”

“Fuck, doll,” he growled, reaching down to hold her hair out of her face so he could see her clearly.

“Will you?” she asked before guiding the head of his cock between her lips again.

“Yeah,” he grunted. “I'm close, sweetheart. Just like that.” She knew just what to do to make him fall apart. His heart was galloping in his chest and his balls couldn't possibly get any tighter. Bucky tried to delay his orgasm as long as possible so he could continue to enjoy the way she was sucking him, but he didn't last much longer. With a hoarse cry, he lifted his hips and pushed her face down onto him with a hand on the back of her head. It felt like he came forever, but it was probably only a handful of short seconds that he only felt her and only saw white light. When his vision returned, she was lifting up off of him and darting her tongue out to lick the corners of her mouth.

A sudden wave of possessiveness coursed through him. She was _his_. And he was hers because he couldn't let go like this with anyone else. He needed to be inside her, but he also needed at least a few minutes to get hard enough for that. Instead of basking in the afterglow of his orgasm, he grabbed her and rolled her onto her back, peppering kisses all over her face and neck and chest. He found her collarbones to be delicate and beautiful as he brushed his mouth over one then the other.

“You make me crazy,” he whispered in her ear before sucking on the tender skin of her neck.

“Ditto,” she whispered back, running her short nails down his back. “I want you inside me so bad. I tried toys a couple months after you left but none of them felt like you. I need you.”

Bucky lifted his head to look at her face. “Toys?”

She laughed softly. “Dildos. Vibes. They weren't as good as you.”

“Sweetheart,” he breathed the endearment out. “I… You… Oh, god.” He had no idea how to tell her that she made him insane and speechless with lust. So much so that he was less than two minutes out of shooting his load all over her tongue, and he was already halfway hard enough to shoot another load deep inside her. Which reminded him… “Fuck,” he muttered, resting his forehead against hers and looking down into her beautiful eyes. “No condoms.”

“I have some in my purse, but…”

“But what?”

She grinned, almost shyly. “You're clean, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And you can't get me pregnant. So, the silver lining of your sterility issue is that…”

“Oh, damn, sweetheart,” he muttered, his head swimming with the knowledge that she wanted to feel him, skin-to-skin, no barrier between them. The thought of filling her up, marking her as his, and of her coming all over him, soaking his cock in her sweet nectar, was making him light-headed.

He was instantly hard and her legs were open wide for him. Bucky took himself in his hand and let the blunt tip slide between her lips to test how overwhelmed he was about to be. The answer was very fucking overwhelmed.

“You sure, doll?”

“So fucking sure,” she said, cupping her generous breasts in her hands, the stiff nipples visible between her spread fingers.

He lined himself up again and flexed his hips. He slid in halfway, gritting his teeth at the intense feeling of her tight, wet pussy wrapped around him like a glove. He pulled back until just the head of his cock was inside her, and then thrust all the way inside. His balls slapped up against her as he bottomed out. “Oh, fuck,” he growled, dropping down to plant his forearms on either side of her head. “You feel so good, sweetheart. The best. Never felt anything so good.” The words just spilled out of his mouth, unfiltered and without much thought.

Bucky buried a hand in her hair and kissed her hard and deep with his tongue in her mouth as far as he could get it while he rocked his hips, stroking in and out. “Keep going, don’t stop,” she whispered when he pulled back to let her breathe. “Oh, Bucky. Just like that. Yes. Like that.”

He grabbed her waist and snapped his hips into hers. “Like that?” he asked.

“Uh huh,” she moaned. “Please. More.”

She made him feel like a man again. Not some poor damaged beast that needed to be babysat or housed or counseled. But a man who could take care of her and make her arch her body in pleasure at just the feeling of his cock pushing into her tight little pussy. “You like that, sweetheart? You like the way I feel inside you?”

She was writhing beneath him, clutching at his arms and shoulders. One leg was hooked over his hip. “Yesssss,” she hissed. “I love the way you feel. I love _you_.”

Her eyes were glazed over with pleasure, but he could see the truth of her statement in them and it made him falter, miss a beat as he was pumping into her. Bucky leaned down and kissed her tenderly on the lips. “I love you, too,” he whispered against her mouth.

It was just her and him in the middle of his bed with nothing else in the world–no HYDRA, no war or international conflicts, no responsibilities or commitments, no past or future–just them, right there, right then. He wished he could stop time and live in the moment for longer. Time with her always felt fleeting and ephemeral. It was bound to end, and that end would come sooner rather than later. And it would feel like a punch to the gut when it did.

She felt so perfect, wet and willing, clutching onto him in more ways than one, and he had two hands to play her now, so it was even better. Bucky pushed his right hand between them, working her clit while his left tangled in her hair and pulled her head to the side so he could suck on her neck. Licking or kissing her there drove her wild. He’d had her enough times to know this fact very well, and if he wanted to her come, then it would go a long way toward getting her to the edge of the cliff.

“Ohmygod,” she gasped, running the words together. She dug her heel into his ass and her nails into his shoulders, closed her eyes and tipped her head back, and came so hard he could feel her muscles clamp down on his dick to the point that he faltered as he pushed into her.

“Oh, fuck, sweetheart,” he whispered in her ear as he quickened his pace, chasing his own pleasure at that point. She grabbed a fistful of his hair in her hand and turned her head to kiss him, her tongue hot and wet in his mouth. He thought about how there was nothing between them any longer. No clothing or condom or pretenses. It was just them and no one knew him better at that moment. No one had ever been closer to him. Bucky groaned her name against her lips as he came, thrusting into her and holding her down until the white-hot intensity of his orgasm had subsided and he could move again.

Even when he could move, he stayed where he was, snug between her thighs and deep inside her. Her leg was still hooked over his hip and her heel pressed into his ass like she didn’t want him to move either. She was absolutely wrecked when he looked down at her. Her expression was dreamy and her eyes were half-closed. Her hair was wild and tangled around the fingers of his left hand, and, though he couldn’t see it, her chest was rising and falling rapidly against his. He felt just as sated as she looked.

“The arm is good,” she said when she caught her breath. “I like the arm.”

Bucky laid his forehead onto her collarbone and chuckled. “You picked it.”

“Did not. I just told Steve to tell Tony Stark that he shouldn't give you some crazy ass, gadget-filled toy. I don't want to worry about getting zapped when we're doing the sex.”

She was playing with his hair and everything felt so familiar, like they'd never spent a moment apart. “I should get up and shut the bedroom door before Steve walks into the apartment and see us like this.”

“Mmmm, but you feel so good,” she said and shifted her hips slightly. He knew if he didn't get off her that he'd end up hard and ready for her again.

“I made a mess. I need to clean you up.”

“Don't you dare,” she said. “Because, I gotta admit, I'm more than a little turned on at the fact that you came inside me.”

His cock was a few seconds from being hard as a rock again. She was inciting him, wiggling her hips and biting her lower lip and looking up at him with those fuck-me eyes. He had half a mind to give her exactly what she was asking for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They aren't out of the woods yet, folks. Don't think I don't still have some angst of my sleeve. Thank you for all being so nice! :-)


	18. Chapter 18

> “Lonely is the room, the bed is made, the open window lets the rain in. Burning in the corner is the only one who dreams he had you with him.” - Lover You Should’ve Come Over (Jeff Buckley)

**[11:24pm, August 29th, New York]**

He was standing in the kitchen in his boxers when Steve walked in the door like he was creeping home after a night out. Bucky felt like he was the one who should be creeping around that way.

“I’m not interrupting, am I?” Steve asked.

Bucky put down the knife he’d been using to spread the mayo on the slices of bread. “No.”

Steve’s eyes swung around the apartment. “Where is she?”

“In my bed.”

His friend smiled at him, looking genuinely happy. “I was just coming to get my, uh, painting supplies.”

“What for?”

“Nothing.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes at Steve. “Where you been all night?”

Steve shifted uncomfortably. “At a friend’s.”

“What friend?”

“You don’t, uh, know her.”

“Her?” Bucky asked, his lips lifting up into a grin. “Her, huh?”

“Sharon.”

“The blonde from Germany?” Wasn’t Steve just full of surprises?

Steve couldn’t keep the smile from growing on his face. “She got transferred back here about a month ago. We’ve been seeing each other.”

“And keeping it a secret?” Bucky asked.

“Didn’t want to throw it in your face, but since you and Darcy are… well, since she’s in your bed I figured you two were…”

“Apparently, we are taking it one day at a time, or at least that’s what she’s informed me I am doing, and I’m not arguing with that dame. Not anymore.”

“Good. I’m glad.” Steve headed toward the hallway that led to his bedroom. “I’m just gonna grab my supplies and leave. I told Sharon I’d, uh, paint…”

“You painting nudes now, punk?” Bucky asked, feeling good about everything for the first time in ages.

“Shut up, jerk,” Steve said, but there was no venom in his voice.

Bucky turned back to the sandwiches he was making. Steve kept cooked chicken breasts in ziplock bags in the fridge for protein. He’d pulled a couple of them apart and put them on some wheat bread with slices of cheese. He finished up just as Steve came out with the easel under one arm and a canvas messenger bag that held his paints and brushes slung over the other. “Get get ‘em, tiger,” Bucky said, grinning at his best friend.

Steve turned around and flipped Bucky the bird before opening the door of the apartment. “I’m happy for you, Buck,” Steve called out over his shoulder before shutting the door and locking it.

Bucky dropped one sandwich on a plate for her and two on a plate for him. He left all the fixings on the counter because he was feeling reckless and happy and missed her. She was asleep in the middle of the mattress, the sheet only covering half her body, lengthwise. He stood there and stared at the cream sheet laid down the center of her body, covering one tit, one leg. The edge of it laid over her mound so he couldn’t really see much of her sex, just the curls surrounding it.

The bed was a fucking disaster, the sheets twisted and wrinkled and covered with their sweat and other things. He’d had her more times than were really necessary, but she’d teased him and flirted with him and whispered filthy things in his ear every time he’d tried to pull her into the shower. She’d only let him go to make sandwiches when her stomach rumbled for food, and now his exhausted little angel was passed out in his bed with her hair on his pillow and her mouth just barely open. Why had he been fighting this? This felt incredible. A voice in the back of his mind told him he didn’t deserve it.

“Darcy,” he said softly.

She rolled over onto her side and the sheet fell away. Fuck, she was beautiful.

“Darcy,” he repeated. “Sweetheart.”

Her eyes fluttered open, and she saw him standing there by the bed with two plates. “You’re a dream,” she said. “You’re the hottest thing I’ve ever seen _and_ you brought food. Marry me.”

He laughed uncomfortably because her little flirty comment hit a little too close to home for him. He was supposed to be taking things one day at a time, but it was hard not to let his mind jump ahead to things like that. Things that he wasn’t sure he could give her. Marriage, kids, a little house in the suburbs.

Darcy sat up and wrapped the sheet around her body. “Gimme,” she said, reaching out a hand and wiggling her fingers at him. He offered her a plate, and she took it. Bucky sat down on the edge of the bed, one foot on the floor and the other leg pressed up against her knee as she sat cross-legged and ate her sandwich, making little happy noises. “I was so hungry,” she said around a bite.

“I tried to feed you two hours ago.”

“I liked what we were doing more than I wanted food. Priorities,” she said.

“We could have done that after you ate,” he replied, the corner of his mouth lifting up in a grin.

She raised her brows. “Oh, we will.”

“Darcy,” he laughed around a bite of his food. “You’re exhausted, and so am I.”

She pushed out her lower lip in a pout. “Can’t get it up, grandpa?”

“Doll,” he warned. “Don’t test me. I’ll pin you to this mattress and not let you up for two days. We’ll have to throw these sheets away by the time we’re done.”

She threw her head back and laughed. “I think the sheets might already be a lost cause. I’m, like, perpetually in a wet spot.”

“You instigated it,” he replied. God, it felt so good to be with her like this, just bantering back and forth while knowing that she loved him. Even though it was still hard to grasp how someone like her could love him, how he could ever deserve any part of this heaven.

“What can I say? You’re way better than my vibrator, and it’s a jack rabbit, so that’s saying something.”

“What’s a jack rabbit?”

“A vibrator with a little hooked part at the top that has, like, cute little bunny ears that go around or against your clit.” She finished her sandwich and licked a smudge of mayo off her thumb. He wasn’t sure if that was what drove him to it, or if it was her casual description of a sex toy that she claimed he was better than. Either way, he sat his plate with his second sandwich on the floor before crawling into the bed and ripping the sheet off her.

Darcy giggled and reached out for him like he was all she wanted.

///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\

**[8:43am, August 30th, New York]**

She was in the shower and he was trying to stay away from her for a few minutes because one of them was going to die of too much sex if he didn't put some distance between them. His brain just wanted him to make up for lost time by fitting in as much as he could.

Bucky was standing in the kitchen drinking directly out of the carton of juice when Steve busted through the door and tossed his painting supplies by the entrance. He looked like he was all business and in a hurry to get somewhere. “What happened?” Bucky asked.

Steve looked up. “Fury found a group of HYDRA operatives just outside Minsk in Belarus. His team needs reinforcements because they're outnumbered and it looks like HYDRA has some heavy duty weaponry.” He paused before adding. “There's concern they found some samples of the serum in Siberia after we almost destroyed the facility there. We don't think they have synthesized it, but it's a possibility.”

Bucky felt like the bottom had just fallen out of his world. He’d been living in a dream with her for the past twelve hours. He was free of their programming and enjoying having her back in his life in every way possible, and now his past had come knocking to remind him what he really was. An asset. A killer. HYDRA felt like his responsibility, and he couldn't let Steve go alone now that he knew they couldn't control him.

But she was in the shower, and he couldn't run off. This is why she's a bad idea, a voice in the back of his mind said. This is why you can't have her, why you don't deserve her. You're just going to end up leaving her to go kill or be killed.

“Just wanted to drop off my stuff and grab my gear before the jet leaves.”

“I'm going with you.”

Steve shook his head. “No, Buck. You and Darcy just got back together, and you've been through a lot in the past few hours.”

“This is my fight, too,” Bucky replied, more and more determined with each passing moment to make sure he was there to help bring them down. “I'm not staying at home while you clean up my mess.

“This isn't your mess. This is HYDRA, and we've been fighting them for decades.”

“Steve, I need to do this.” It was the honest truth. He needed to start taking steps to balance the scales that were tipped just a little too far toward his own damnation. He'd tried hiding in Bucharest, and he'd tried shutting it all out in Wakanda. He'd even tried forgetting just now with Darcy. He'd started to believe her when she told him to take it a day at a time, but that just wasn't feasible. HYDRA was a monster with its tentacles in everything, and it never stopped plotting and planning to amass more power. Taking things one day at a time like he was actually ever going to have a normal life was just a trick. It'd never work.

Steve sighed and stood in the doorway with one hand on his hip. “The jet leaves at ten hundred on the dot. There's a briefing right before, but I'll cover for you if you miss it.” Steve walked past Bucky and disappeared down the hall. He came back with his go bag slung over his shoulder. “Hey,” he said to his friend,“don't mess things up with her, Buck. Tell her you'll be back.”

“I'll tell her what I have to.”

“That you'll be back in a few days,” Steve said.

“I'll see you in an hour,” Bucky replied.

Steve shook his head and shut the door. Bucky’s stomach was in knots, but his mind was calm. He walked into his bedroom and dressed himself in gear he’d not worn for a long time–tactical cargo pants that held his weapons and a fitted vest with built-in armour. He wondered what he would say to her and how it would play out as he laced up his boots. The party was over, and now it was time for real life, not a fantasy.

He was sitting on the foot of the bed when she walked in with a towel wrapped around her and her damp hair falling over her bare shoulders. When she smiled at him like she'd never been happier, he felt like scum. Then her face fell a bit when she noticed he was dressed to leave.

“What's going on?” Darcy asked, walking over to stand in front of him.

“A mission. I leave in an hour.”

She seemed shocked, her mouth opening and closing, but nothing coming out at first. “Oh. Okay.”

He almost caved in under her assessing gaze. He wanted to be with her so badly, but it was clear to him that there was a choice to be made. He could right his wrongs and put his energy into fighting HYDRA, or he could play house with her and pretend like he wasn't a monster with a kill list a mile long and too much red in his ledger.

“I didn’t know you were going on missions,” she said. He could tell she was being so very careful with her words.

“When they come up, you gotta go.” Bucky wanted to cringe at the way he sounded. Cold, uncaring. He just didn't know how else to get around this without turning himself and his feelings for her completely off.

“Okay. Where are you going?”

“Classified,” he said. He knew he was being a dick about it, but it was better for her to experience this now instead of a month or a year down the line. Better for her to realize that he couldn't give her anything but a good fuck. Better for her to leave now rather than later.

“Do you know when you'll be back?” She looked so unhappy and so worried, and she didn't deserve to feel this way. It was all his fault for being weak and thinking he could have his cake and eat it too.

“No. Could be days or weeks.”

“Will you call when you get there?” she asked. He could see her trying so hard to keep her face impassive and her voice soft and understanding, but the facade was crumbling.

He shrugged and almost choked on his response of, “Probably not. Communication blackouts help maintain mission integrity.”

“Oh.” She looked down at her bare feet and then back up to him. There were tears in her eyes. It twisted his stomach because he was responsible for them. Better now than later. Better that she move on and not waste her time on him. “So,” she said, “I guess I should get dressed.” Her eyes were pleading with him to stop them from going down this path, but he couldn't do it. This was his life, and if she couldn't handle it then it would be best for her to move on.

“Yeah,” he replied, standing and moving toward the door. “Mission briefing is in a few. I'd like to not miss it.”

“You really can’t tell me anything?” she asked. “Nothing?”

He shrugged and averted his gaze. He could tell her, but he wouldn’t always be able to tell her. She said she’d thought about it, but it sounded like she wasn’t ready for the real deal. “I won’t ever be able to tell you,” he snapped, his eyes on the floor at her feet.

“Do you want me here when you get back?” The question was so soft he barely heard it.

Bucky clenched his teeth together and lleaned down to grab her bag, tossing it onto the bed beside her. “I told you this was a bad idea, Darcy. This ain’t no kind of life for you.”

“But do you want me? This?”

“I shouldn’t,” he said, turning his back on her. “Look, I gotta go, and so do you. This was a mistake, letting you come here.”

There was a long moment of deafening silence as he stood in the doorway. “What the fuck are you doing?” she finally asked his back as he stepped out the bedroom door. Her voice was no longer soft and hurt, but harsh.

He turned around and looked at her as she stood there in nothing but a towel, looking like the best and worst thing in his life. “Waiting for you to get dressed so I can lock up,” he said.

“You're acting like an asshole,” she replied, crossing her arms over her chest.

Bucky felt a twist in his chest. He was acting like one because he was one. It was good she could see that now, good that she wasn’t under any false assumptions that he was a nice guy deep down. He was a selfish, fucked up asshole who had killed people in the past, but now he just used them. He used her and Steve and Sam. He even used Tony, though Tony wasn’t remotely close to being a friend. He had nothing to give. Well, he did have one thing to give, but it was of no use to her. He could fight and he could kill, and he was okay spending the rest of his life fighting and killing every member of HYDRA who made him into this twisted piece of shit and were trying to find the means to do it to someone else through the serum samples.

“Maybe I am an asshole,” he told her. “Look, clock is ticking. I can’t miss the flight out.”

“We just spent hours in your bed. You agreed to take this one day at a time, and now you’re kicking me out?” She sounded more angry than upset. Good. He could deal with that better.

“We’re taking it one day at a time. That was yesterday. Today is a mission. Tomorrow is whatever it’s going to be.”

“Don’t be so fucking literal,” she snapped. “You know what I meant by one day at a time, and I did _not_ mean that you could run away like a fucking child because you’re scared of this–whatever it is we have.”

“I’m not scared of it!” he said, raising his voice. “I’ve got a job to do. I told you that this was a mistake, that you couldn’t handle it. I can’t give you what you want. We talked about this before I left New Mexico, and you come in here trying to rewrite reality.”

Darcy reached out and swiped her bag off the bed, yanking out a pair of jeans and a shirt. “I’m not rewriting shit, asshole. I’m trying to have a relationship with you.” She pointed her index finger at him when he opened his mouth to interrupt and continued. “And don’t you try to tell me that you don’t want one because you do. You’re a liar if you say that.”

He roughly ran a hand through his hair. “I _do_ want one, but I can’t fucking have one! That’s what I’ve been telling you. This is my life.” Bucky threw his arms out to the sides. “This! Leaving at the drop of a hat and not being able to tell you where I’m going or when I’ll be back. It’d be even worse if this between us were for real, because then you’d need to be locked up while I was gone, in case my enemies wanted to get to you while I’m away.”

“Oh my god, you’re such a goddamn drama queen,” she said, dropping the towel on the floor. For a moment he just stared at her naked body, feeling his heart thumping in his chest like it wanted to know what he thought he was doing when he picked this fight. With stilted, stiff movements, she pulled on the jeans and shirt. “I know this is your life, but I didn’t know you had to be this big of an asshole about it. Is it really classified, Bucky? Is it really that secret? So secret that you can’t tell the girl you’re fucking if you’ll be in or out of the country? If you’re going to be gone for a week or a month? Because you’ve got to have a damn clue, and even if you don’t, do you really think I believe that you don’t have a way of picking up a phone to call or text me? Communications blackout, my ass.”

He watched her shove her clothes from the previous day in her bag and zip it up. “This is my reality,” he said. “This is all I can offer.”

“What? A good fuck in the morning before you run off for a week or a month?”

“Yes!” he said, hitting the door frame with his fist. The wood splintered, which caused her to wince. He immediately felt like he’d gone too far, but his mouth was still running. “I warned you that this is all I can give. No house, no family, no security, no _life_. Just a little conversation and a little sex. Thought that was what you wanted.”

“I thought I told you that I wanted _you_. Obviously, you are incapable of giving me that, though.” She tied her wet hair up in a ponytail with the elastic on her wrist. She had tears in her eyes again, but she looked so angry at him that he wondered if she’d just slap him across the face when she walked past. He hoped she _would_ hit him because he deserved it. He deserved to be beaten to a fucking pulp after messing with her head like this. It should have all been left in that house in New Mexico with that sweet kiss being their first and only goodbye. He should have let Steve read the trigger words and left her out of it.

“I tried to warn you,” he said, watching her walk toward him. He didn’t move to cede the doorway to her because he was hoping she’d push him or punch him. She didn’t, though. She slipped right past him with just her tits brushing up against his arm.

“Yeah, you did.” She spat the words out as she walked down the short hall and into the living room. She stopped with her hand on the doorknob and her back still to him. “You said you loved me,” her voice was softer now and her head was bent down.

“Yeah, but that ain’t enough.”

“Funny,” she said, “but I thought it was the only thing that _would_ be enough.” She opened the door, but hadn’t stepped out into the hall yet.

“Ain’t nothing can change what I am. Not even that. You should get out while you can, doll.”

“Yeah,” she said, sniffing. He could hear the tears in her voice. “This was a mistake.”

He stood there in the living room and watched her pull the door shut behind her. The apartment was silent now. All he could hear were his own breaths puffing forcefully out of his nose. His stomach was in knots, and his chest felt like it was in a vice. A voice in the back of his head kept telling him that he was a horrible human being for hurting someone like her. Another voice praised him for ending it all so he could focus on what was really important: bringing down HYDRA.

Bucky turned and slammed his left fist on the marble countertop that separated the kitchen from the living room. The pans in the cabinet beneath it clattered against each other and a jagged fracture split the slab in half. Just another one of his messes for Steve to clean up, he supposed.

He stood there and stared at the crack for five minutes before he left. He wanted to give her time to leave. He didn’t need a scene on the sidewalk in front of his building. You mean, you don’t want to see her cry because of what you did to her, his mind supplied. Yeah, that too. He didn’t want to see the fallout of his selfish behavior. He should have just left well enough alone, but he had to have her one more time. Or five more times if he was really counting. The pain in her eyes hadn’t been worth it, though.

Bucky arrived at the briefing room just as the meeting started. Fury was displaying a map in holograph in the middle of the table, pointing out the two locations where operatives were working, one of which was a clinic in the heart of Minsk. He took a seat at the end of the table and tried not to think about all the eyes that were on him. Steve seemed the most intent at sorting out what was going on in his head, which was why Bucky had chosen the empty chair at the opposite end of the table.

He tried to focus on the information being given, but it was difficult to do when his mind kept flashing back to her. She was one of those people that you didn’t want to argue with because you always wondered if maybe they were always right and you were always wrong. He felt that way right then. What if she was right? What if he was being stupid? What if he was just doing this to hurt himself?

Fury showed them a picture of a small white building with red trim. “The clinic was a former medical lab for pharmaceutical research. The agent we were able to get inside three days ago has confirmed that they are actively working on synthesizing the residual serum they were able to retrieve from the facility in Siberia.”

“Should have burned the place to the ground before I left,” Stark said, leaning back in his chair. “Oh, right. I couldn’t because Captain Stars and Stripes decided to punch my arc reactor into pieces.”

“Shut your mouth, Stark,” Steve snapped.

“Just sayin’, Cap.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have been trying to kill my best friend.” His eyes shot to Bucky for a brief moment. “So drop it.”

Stark help his hands up. “Hey, just trying to lighten the mood. This is a tough crowd.”

Fury dismissed everyone and Bucky fell into line behind Steve as they made their way down the hall and to the elevator. Two men Bucky didn’t recognize were going to get on the elevator with them, but one stern look from Steve made them turn around and take the stairs.

“What happened with Darcy?” Steve asked when the doors shut.

“What was bound to happen,” Bucky answered.

“Which was?”

He swallowed the lump in his throat. “It’s over.”

“What?” Steve sounded surprised.

“She walked out because I couldn’t tell her where I was going and how long I was going to be there.”

“Buck, you could have told her.”

“And compromised the mission?”

Steve was silent until the doors opened. “Did you do it on purpose? Did you push her away again?”

“She left on her own, punk.” So what if it was a little bit of a lie? Bucky knew exactly what he’d done, and he knew she’d have been waiting in his bed when he got back from this mission if he hadn’t forced her to cut him out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry; I'll fix it. I've still got two more chapters. I live in the eastern time zone of the US and it's 8am here. I'll post the next chapter this evening after dinner and the final one tomorrow.
> 
> I don't have anything in the works right now, and don't know if I want to commit myself to a looooong fic. The desire to write is strong, but I don't know what to write about. So, if you have a fic idea that you'd love to see written, let me know. I can't promise I'll write it, but I very well might. It would be best to e-mail it to me (anogete527@yahoo.com) or send it to me on Tumblr ([anogete](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/anogete)). If you leave it in a comment here, then there is a very good chance I will lose it. So, don't do that. :-)


	19. Chapter 19

> “It’s sixteen miles to the promised land, and I promise you I’m doing the best I can.” - With Arms Outstretched (Rilo Kiley)

**[7:28pm, September 26th, New York]**

Bucky wasn’t sure why he had let Steve talk him into sticking around for the dinner party. When Steve had originally suggested they invite everyone over to their place for dinner, Bucky had balked and told Steve he could go right ahead without him. Steve was head over heels for Sharon and looking for an excuse to introduce her to everyone, and Bucky was almost always physically ill whenever he saw the two of them together. Not because he didn’t like Sharon, and not because he wasn’t happy for his friend, but because it just made him think of Darcy.

The mission had been a success, and even though HYDRA hadn’t even been close to creating something near to the serum doses he and Steve had been given, it was still satisfying to squash their fledgling medical experimentation center. The entire thing had taken three days. After two years in cryo and months of sitting around, the rhythm and dance of fighting came back to him shockingly easy. When it all came together and he could incapacitate three or four of them coming at him, it felt exhilarating.

After they’d return to New York, he’d walked back into the apartment and dropped his go bag in the floor of his bedroom. He’d immediately realized his bed was still rumpled from when they’d made love in it so many times a few days before. Bucky had stripped the sheets off and threw them in the floor, and then he’d laid there on the bare mattress with his face pressed into her pillow and cried like a fucking baby. All the adrenaline and all the worry and drive of the mission were gone, leaving him with just an empty bed and regrets.

Explaining the damaged–likely destroyed–countertop hadn’t really helped matters. Steve had thought–and probably still did think–that Bucky was to blame for Darcy’s absence, and even though he was absolutely right, Bucky didn’t feel like admitting it.

So, Bucky had arranged and paid for the replacement of the marble countertop while Steve was on a run one morning. A week later, after the marble slab was replaced, Steve had started talking about having a get-together. Bucky had told him to knock himself out and offered to go to the gym for an extended night-time workout during the party. That had been his plan all along until that morning when Steve made him feel like an asshole for skipping out by saying he wasn’t being a team player.

Fuck being a team player. He just wanted to be left alone. Because he still hadn’t changed her fucking pillow case. Because he slept with his arms wrapped around it each night. Because every single day he repeated her phone number under his breath, his lips moving over each number—eight, zero, four, eight, seven, four, four, two, one, seven. He thought it, but he never called it. She probably hated him. It had been almost a month, and that was long enough to find a new guy and move on with her life. Maybe he’d done her a favor. He’d made it very easy for her to hate him and tell the next guy he was some jerk who did her wrong. Thinking about it tore him up inside, though.

So, here he was, sitting in the leather armchair by the window. He had a glass of scotch in his hand. Stark had poured it for him, saying it was a twenty-five-year-old single malt that cost a fortune. Bucky had taken it, but hadn’t sipped it yet. He wasn’t really a scotch guy, and the stuff didn’t numb his feelings any longer, so there really wasn’t any use in partaking. He just sat there with it in his hand and watched the party.

Steve was standing in the kitchen, leaning on the little U-shaped counter that separated the kitchen from the living area. He looked happy and was smiling at Sharon, the corners of his eyes all crinkled up. She was smiling back, and it twisted something in Bucky’s gut.

Stark was sitting on the arm of a chair, waving his hands wildly while trying to explain something to Bruce and Nat. Pepper was sitting in the chair, ducking each time Stark’s arm swung around. She looked up and saw Bucky watching her. Immediately, he averted his gaze, looking at the floor and then the wall by the door. Too late, though. She’d slipped out of the chair, unbeknownst to Stark.

“Hi, Bucky, right?” she said, sitting down in the empty seat next to him. There was a small table between them where she sat her glass of wine.

“Right. We, uh, met a few weeks ago in Stark’s office.”

“You look unhappy,” she said after a moment of silence.

Bucky shook his head. “Nah, I’m okay.”

She nodded and settled back into the chair to sip her wine. “He’s a little drunk,” she told Bucky as they both watched Tony.

“More than a little,” he agreed.

Pepper shrugged. “My cross to bear,” she told him.

“You don’t get tired of it?”

“Tony?” She laughed, and it was musical. “Of course I get tired of Tony. He’s exhausting.”

“But you’re… together.”

She smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Just because he gets on my nerves doesn’t mean I don’t love him.”

“And what he does? With the Avengers? The missions and fighting?”

“Well, I don’t exactly love _that_ , but what am I going to do, right? I actually left him a few years ago. I told him if he didn’t stop, that we couldn’t be together.”

Bucky hadn’t realized that. He watched Pepper from the corner of his eye as she took a delicate sip of the chilled white wine. “What happened?”

Pepper sat the glass back on the table. “We had a tough time being apart. He agreed to make some concessions for me, and I tried to be more understanding.”

“And that worked?”

“It’s not perfect, but we make it work. I didn’t choose this life, but I chose him, so…” She smiled, looking genuinely happy. “All the worrying is worth it in the end.” They both sat there for a long moment in silence before she said, “Why do you ask?”

Bucky shrugged and took his first sip of the scotch. It was good. Smooth and fruity, but it still burned when it went down. “Just curious. Seems like it would be hard to have a relationship with someone in this line of work.”

“It is. But, like I said, if it’s the right person, then it’s worth it. You sound like someone with woman troubles.”

“Nah. Just… no. Nothing.”

“Pepper. Pepper! Do you remember that painting?” Tony was waving at her from across the room. She smiled at Bucky before turning her attention to Stark. “The demented one with the teeth?” he added.

Bucky watched Pepper roll her eyes and give Tony an indulgent smile. “The Basquiat,” she said.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. The head with the teeth.”

She stood and smoothed her skirt over her thighs. “Nice to see you again, Bucky,” Pepper told him before she moved back over to stand next to Tony. He watched Tony put his arm around her waist and pull her closer. She laughed and slipped her arm over his shoulder.

Bucky shifted his gaze because watching them hurt too much and reminded him of Darcy. He ended up watching Steve and Sharon making eyes at each other across the kitchen counter.

Why? Why could they have this and he couldn’t? Oh. Because he was a piece of shit. That's why.

The doorbell rang, and Steve answered it with Sharon in tow like the two of them couldn’t do anything alone anymore. He wanted to hate them, but he was really just jealous. Clint walked in with a woman and three children. His family. The kids immediately decided Steve was the coolest guy ever and grabbed onto his legs. Sharon laughed as Steve walked around the living room, legs wide apart and stiff, two kids hanging off him like monkeys and the third running behind, tugging at his shirt. Clint’s wife just shook her head.

Bucky threw back the rest of the scotch and slipped down the hallway. He shut and locked his bedroom door and sat on the floor with his back against it. It gave him a perfect view of his bed in the waning autumn light. The sun was setting earlier every day and summer was all but done for. If he let his eyes lose their focus, he could almost imagine her sitting in the middle of the bed, cross-legged and eating that cold chicken sandwich he’d fixed her after they’d made love three times.

He could hear the party outside his door. Sharon laughing at Steve playing with the kids. Laura admonishing the kids while Clint told her not to worry so much. Pepper telling Tony that the Basquiat paintings weren’t creepy, and then Tony calling her darling and telling her that they were perfectly creepy, but he loved them if she loved them. His heart felt so heavy with regret. What if he’d been wrong? What if he’d ruined the best thing he’d ever had? What if she’d been right all along?

She’d probably been right.

The doorbell rang again and he heard Sam’s voice as he greeted everyone and introduced his date–someone named Sophia. He didn’t know Sam was dating anyone. He hadn’t known Steve and Sharon were seeing each other for a month, though, so it wasn’t really a surprise he was in the dark on this as well. None of them treated a relationship like something unattainable, which bothered Bucky. It bothered him a great deal, actually.

He looked at the bed and let his eyes lose their focus again. The white duvet softened into a hazy, fluffy cloud and his memory lended a hand to his imagination, placing her there in the middle. Bucky closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the door. He could still hear her telling him that she loved him. Was he really going to spend the rest of his life without the woman who loved him? Was he really going to spend the rest of his life without the woman _he_ loved?

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**[10:34pm, September 26th, New York]**

Bucky was still sitting on the floor in front of his bedroom door, his back resting against the entrance, when he heard footsteps approach. He knew Steve, Sharon, Sam, and Sophia were still in the apartment. He’d heard everyone else leave over the past few minutes. The footsteps sounded like Sam. Bucky hoped Sam was just going to the bathroom because he really wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone.

His jaw tightened when Sam tapped a knuckle against the wooden door. “Let me in, Barnes.”

Bucky pressed his lips together and stayed still, hoping the other man would go away. Sam didn’t. He knocked again. “I’ll kick the door in. You better open it.”

He stood and flipped the lock before opening the door. “What?”

Sam looked dressier than usual in a pair of black slacks and a tucked in white dress shirt. No tie, though. He must be trying to impress his date. “Why are you hiding in here?” Sam asked.

“I’m not hiding. Just didn’t feel like socializing.”

“We haven’t talked much since you passed that programing test. How you been?”

Bucky sighed and stepped out of the doorway so Sam could enter. He watched the other man walk over to look out the window. “Fine,” Bucky snapped, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“What happened to your girl? Darcy?”

“She left.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Sam walked over to sit in an armchair by the closet door. “You run her off?”

Bucky opened his mouth to tell Sam he hadn’t, but it would have been a lie. He _had_ run her off, and he regretted that even though he had felt like it was the right thing–the only thing–to do at the time. “Yeah, probably,” he told Sam.

Sam just nodded and crossed his ankle over his knee. “Why?”

“Because I can’t have anything with her. It wouldn’t work.”

“You know we’re all in the same boat as you, right, Barnes? We all risk our lives to keep people safe, and we all want to find someone to share our lives with.”

Bucky shifted uncomfortably, fighting the urge to leave the room. If he left, he’d just have to go out and make small talk with Steve and the two girls, which might be worse than just sitting here with Sam. “It’s different for me, and you know it.”

“Sure, you got some baggage other people don’t have, but you’re not the only one with hang-ups, man. We all have them.” Sam paused for a moment and said, “Steve said she left you, but that’s not really what happened, right?”

Bucky braced his forearms on his knees and bent over to stare at the floor between his feet. “I… I’m the one that deserves the blame on that one. I _did_ push her.”

“You started a fight.”

“Yeah.”

“You realize what you were doing when you were doing it?”

“Yeah. I guess.” He paused and said, “But I didn’t care.”

“You regret fucking it up?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, picking at a loose thread in the seam of his jeans.

“So, what are you going to do about it?”

“Do you actually think guys like us can have a girl or a wife or whatever?”

Sam shrugged. “Sure.”

“Sure? Why is it so easy?”

“Well, it’s not _easy_ ,” Sam said. “It’s probably pretty hard. I mean, ask Tony and Pepper or Clint and Laura. They’ve both been together for a while and gone through their own problems. They’ll probably tell you it’s work every single day, but… you want it, then you gotta put in the work. In fact...” Sam stood up and left the room. When he came back, Clint was behind him.

“I thought you left,” Bucky said, remembering the commotion he’d heard as Laura and the kids had exited the apartment shortly after nine-thirty.

Clint leaned against the wall by the door. “I’m catching a ride with this asshole,” he said, nodding at Sam. “Steve asked me to stick around and tell you a little story.”

Fucking Steve and his meddling. Bucky dropped his gaze back to the floor. “What?”

“A few years back Thor’s brother–who happens to be the biggest dick on this side of the galaxy–took control of my mind. I thought I was working for him willingly, but I… wasn’t,” Clint said. His eyes were far away, like he was remembering. Bucky felt a kinship because he’d been in that spot before–here, but not here, caught up in the past. “He had me shoot my boss and a few other choice tasks which included betraying pretty much everyone I know and care about.”

Bucky felt sick for Clint. He didn’t know the guy that well, but the story echoed his own in a terrible way. “What happened?” he asked, watching Clint stare off into the middle distance.

“Nat kicked my ass, punched me in the head, knocked me out. It broke his hold. But it took a long time after that to get past it. I wanted to blame myself.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed.

“Laura, my wife… she helped me a lot. After. After all the action and after we captured Loki, when I was back home and having flashbacks of what I’d done and nightmares of killing people, of the shit he made me think while he controlled me. Laura was always there.” Clint pushed off the wall. “I told her she shouldn’t be. I actually told her she should divorce me and take the kids, that I wasn’t fit to be a husband or a father.” Clint laughed. “She, uh, told me that I was talking bullshit and that I was stuck with her. I’m not going to lie and say it wasn’t work. She and I had some fights, and I walked out a few times because I didn’t think I deserved to be forgiven, but…”

“But?” Bucky asked, holding his breath.

Clint shrugged. “She was right, and I was wrong. And it was worth hanging onto.”

Bucky dropped his gaze back to the floor, his thoughts swirling around Clint’s story. Steve had mentioned it while they were in the car on the way to the airport in Germany years ago. He’d told Bucky and Sam about the people they’d be meeting. Clint was the first person Steve had called for help back then, someone that Steve considered to be trustworthy and competent. And even though Bucky had known the bare bones of the story, hearing it from Clint himself–even just the abridged version–struck a chord.

He had no idea what to say. Clint walked over and clapped him lightly on the back. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this shit, but Steve said it might help. So, I hope it does.”

“It does,” Bucky murmured, glancing up at the other man. “Thanks.”

Clint nodded at Bucky and Sam before leaving the room. Sam sat down in the chair again, but didn’t say anything.

Finally, after several long minutes of silence, Bucky said, “Darcy told me a long time ago that I was punishing myself.”

Sam nodded slowly and pinched his lower lip in thought. “You think she’s right?”

Bucky laughed, but it sounded more than a little bitter. “I’m beginning to think she was right about everything. Probably about that, too.” He looked up at Sam. “What do you think? Am I?”

“You want to be with her?”

“Yeah. More than anything.”

Sam nodded again. “I need you to think about the next question real hard. I want an honest answer.”

“Okay.”

“You do everything in your power to keep her?”

It was shameful that it was so easy to answer that. “No,” Bucky said simply.

“Why?”

“Shit, I don’t know,” Bucky said, pressing the thumb and index fingers of his right hand into his eyes. “Because I didn’t think anything could survive this life. Because I felt like she deserved better. Because I was scared she’d up and leave me in a month or a year when she finds out how hard it is and who I actually am.” He moved his hand away from his face and looked at Sam. “All that.”

“I think you should be telling her all this,” Sam said.

Bucky shook his head. “I’ve already hurt her too much. I’m so sick of making her cry. Every time she tells me she loves me, I just make her fucking cry.”

Sam sighed and switched his legs, crossing the other ankle over the opposite knee. “You think you love her?”

“I _know_ I love her. I just don’t deserve her.”

“There you go, then,” Sam said.

“There I go, what?”

“There you go trying to punish yourself. See, you don’t get to decide who you deserve. _She_ gets to decide who deserves her, and it sounds like she decided.”

“She might change her mind.”

“And she’s allowed to do that,” Sam replied. “But if you think she’ll change her mind because she doesn’t know you, then you’re wrong. By now she’s seen the good, the bad, _and_ the ugly if you ran her off. Weren’t you the one who asked for her to test your triggers? You told me it was because she’d seen all of you. And now you want to tell me she doesn’t know you?”

“She doesn’t know what I’ve done,” Bucky tried, grasping for straws. He could feel his excuses slipping away.

Sam chuckled. “She’s seen your file. I made her read every page that night we showed up at her place. She knows exactly what you’ve done. You surprised she’s still around?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, raising his brows at Sam. “Of fuckin’ course, I am.”

“Must be because she knows all that shit you did was against your will. That’s why we’re all beating our heads against the wall trying to make you understand that you don’t need to carry that guilt.”

Bucky looked down at his lap. The contrast of his right hand next to his left hand wasn’t so jarring now. The most obvious difference was the lack of wrinkles around his knuckles and lack of nails at the tips of his fingers on the prosthetic. His mind shifted, thinking of his reasons for not pursuing anything with her. Being unworthy, while still definitely something he believed to be true, wasn’t something he could point to because Sam was right–it was _her_ decision who she wanted to spend her time on. Inability to give her a family wasn’t in play since she knew that–had suspected from the beginning–and it hadn’t even slowed her down. Her resenting him because he was always running off on a mission was still a concern, but other people seemed to get around that. Clint had a wife and kids, for god’s sake. So, it would be work. He was up for work. It was putting her in danger that made him pause, but Tony and Steve were bigger public figures with enemies to spare and they were both had girls. Maybe it just took a little planning and a lot of worrying.

So, that left one more reason. That he was trying to hurt himself, punishing himself, for his past by withholding the one thing he most wanted: her.

“I fucked up,” he told Sam.

Sam smiled. “That’s okay, Barnes. You’re probably used to it by now.”

“Fuck you, Wilson.”

Sam just threw his head back and laughed. Bucky would have joined him if he hadn’t been so busy thinking about everything he needed to do.

///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\

**[4:47pm, October 14th, New York]**

The overnight package was leaning up against the door to the apartment when he got home from his afternoon workout. Steve was spending the night at Sharon’s and Bucky was on his own. He pulled the tab and ripped the envelope open.

The contract didn’t feel heavy enough. For something this big, it should have been at least five pounds of paper. At least enough to fill a box, not a flimsy little envelope. He flipped through it like he knew what he was looking at. He didn’t, but Tony had given him the name of a real estate agent who did. She’d given it her seal of approval. He laid the paperwork out on the table and signed it. Nothing happened. No crushing weight, no alarm bells or buzzers. No sudden epiphany about what he should do next.

He looked down at the signature. It was definitely his handwriting, but it wasn’t his name on the line or in text below it. William Parry had signed. He’d picked the name shortly after leaving her in New Mexico because he felt like it fit. Will Parry was the little boy in the books he’d read the first week he’d spent with her. The boy who’d fallen in love with a girl and then had to leave her forever. But he wasn’t really Will. Will didn’t have a choice, and Bucky did.

He used the overnight mail envelope they’d included to seal up the signed contract. Before he even took off his shoes, he ran down the street and dropped it into a FedEx box two blocks away. Standing there at the box, he pulled up his bank account on his phone and plugged in his password. A few touches of his finger and it was done. Still no epiphany or sudden sense of responsibility. He texted Tony’s real estate agent and walked back to the apartment.

///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\

**[5:12am, October 17th, New York]**

“I talked to Stark about the unit across the hall,” Bucky told Steve, keeping pace with his friend as they ran circles around Green-Wood Cemetery in Brooklyn.

“You and Tony seem to be getting along,” Steve replied, not acknowledging Bucky’s comment.

“We found common ground. I think he’s an asshole, and he thinks I’m an asshole.”

Steve smirked. “That’s nice, Buck. Real great way to make friends.”

“You ignoring what I just said?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, lifting his forearm to wipe the sweat from his brow. “You don’t need to move out. I like sharing the place with you.”

Bucky grunted as Steve increased his speed, and then he pushed forward to catch up. “What if I’m tired of your medium shirts getting mixed up in my laundry?”

“Sharon likes my medium shirts,” Steve said, pushing harder.

Bucky caught up again and said, “Look, you and her need your space. Maybe she’ll be moving in with you one day. I can’t live in your extra bedroom forever.”

“Not saying forever, just saying that it’s a good situation right now. I don’t want you cutting yourself off from everyone.”

“I ain’t cutting myself off,” Bucky replied.

“You left the party a couple weeks ago. Locked yourself in your bedroom, if I remember right.”

“I ain’t cutting myself off,” he repeated. “I’d be moving across the hall. I’ll come over for dinner twice a week.”

“Four times a week,” Steve said.

“Fuck, no. I don’t eat with you four nights a week _now_. Three.”

Steve slowed down until he was only jogging. Bucky almost stumbled to halt his forward momentum, trying to match his friend’s pace again. After a few yards, Steve stopped completely and put his hands on his hips, trying to catch his breath.

Bracing his hands on his knees, Bucky bent over and sucked in air. He’d be back to normal in a few seconds and so would Steve. “What?” he asked his friend.

“Tony said you were talking to his real estate agent.”

“Leave it alone, punk,” Bucky said.

Steve looked worried when Bucky pushed off his knees and stood. “Are you thinking of going underground and hiding?”

“Nah, not that,” Bucky said. “I’m trying to get my shit together.”

“Your shit is together.”

“I want her back,” Bucky corrected.

Steve’s brows lifted. “I thought she left you. Didn’t want anything to do with this life.”

“That’s not really the truth, and you know it.” He dropped his gaze to the ground.

When Bucky looked back up, Steve was giving him the sassiest, most know-it-all smile there had ever been. “Oh, really? You mean you started a fight just to get her to leave you. Just like _I_ told you not to do.”

“You and fuckin’ Wilson,” Bucky muttered. “Let me do this. Stop pokin’ your noses in my business.”

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**[9:21pm, October 20th, Russia]**

He was lying on his stomach and looking through the scope of the nicest rifle he’d ever laid his fingers on. Fury didn’t fuck around when he swindled the government into paying for weapons. Natasha was sitting next to him on the outcropping of rock they’d stationed themselves at two hours ago. She put the binoculars up to her eyes for a moment.

He’d been thinking about asking since they’d settled into their position, but he wasn’t really sure how to ask without her digging information out of him, and he didn’t want to give up any information. Just don’t give it up, he told himself. Just fucking ask.

“How do you go direct to voicemail?”

She looked over at him, a blank expression on her face. “Excuse me?”

“Like, when you call someone. How do you get their phone to send you directly to their voicemail?”

“Why?”

Fuck. He knew it. She wouldn’t answer any question without asking five of her own. “Just curious.”

“And why are you curious?” He heard the predator in her voice, like she could smell blood, and by blood he meant information that she could use at a later date.

“Goddammit, Nat. Just fucking tell me.”

“Are you trying to call Darcy?”

He looked up at her. “How do you know Darcy?”

She shrugged. “I don’t, but I’ve heard you and her had a thing, and you were pouting at the party, so I put two and two together. Am I right?”

“No.” He groaned. “Yes.”

“Just block your number. Star six seven, then call her. She won’t answer a blocked number.”

“How do you know that if you don’t know her?”

Nat rolled her eyes. “No one answers a blocked number.”

“I do.”

“That’s because you’re over a hundred years old,” she said, bringing up the binoculars again. After a long moment of silence, she said, “You should grovel. A lot.”

Bucky snorted. “Oh, I will. Believe me. I even got her a present.”

“No rings yet. It’s too early for that; you’ll scare the poor girl off.”

“Not a ring,” he told her.

“Not yet?”

He shook his head and tried to hide his smile with his shoulder. “Not yet,” he agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A HUGE thank you to my lovely betas: [ChocolateGate (cocosmama)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cocosmama/pseuds/ChocolateGate) and [Bulmaveg_Otaku](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Bulmaveg_Otaku). They were so helpful in fixing my mistakes and telling me when things could be improved and such. The final chapter will be up tomorrow. Promise!


	20. Chapter 20

> “And I can tell you where we’re gonna be when the whole world crumbles into the sea. We’ll be living ever after, happily.” - 40 Dogs (Bob Schneider)

**[9:47pm, October 25th, New York]**

“Do you even know where to buy furniture?” Steve asked.

Bucky gave him a dirty look. “Do I look like I’m fuckin’ five years old? Yes, I know where to buy furniture.”

“Pepper offered to help, didn’t she?”

Bucky frowned and fell back on Steve’s couch. “Yeah. I told her no floral chairs or lace curtains. She said it would be, uh, very tasteful.” Pepper had found out through Tony that he’d asked about moving into the unoccupied rental that covered the other half of Steve’s floor in the apartment building. The place was just walls and hardwood floors with a stove and fridge, but Pepper told him she’d have it ready to be moved into in three weeks. Bucky didn’t question her because he hadn’t even known where to begin, and he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Buck, are you sure you want to do this?”

“I’ll be across the hall, punk. Stop acting like I’m moving across the country. Don’t you and Sharon want some time alone?”

“We have time alone at her place,” Steve replied.

Bucky looked up at his friend who had stepped over to stand in front of him. “Please tell me you’re not still just holding hands.”

Steve laughed. “I promise I’ve held some other things.”

“What? Your own dick?” Buck asked with a grin.

“No, I think that’s what you’ve been doing, Buck,” Steve said. “I thought you were getting Darcy back. You ain’t even called her.”

“I’m working up to it.”

“Better hurry,” Steve replied. “She might be going out with some other guy by now.”

Bucky felt his stomach drop into this feet. “What? Did you hear something?”

“Nah, just saying you don’t want to wait forever. A dame like her is sure to have another guy in the wings.”

Steve was right. He’d been telling himself that he’d call her once he had the apartment ready, but he was just delaying. He’d almost convinced himself that she’d turn him down flat, that she’d tell him to take his apology and shove it up his stupid, broken, selfish ass. As long as he planned and prepared, he could live with the possibility–the fantasy–of being with her again. Of being able to call her his girl.

“Has Thor said anything about her seeing other guys?” he asked Steve.

“I don't think Thor pays much attention to her love life. Maybe you should just call her and ask.”

Bucky stood up. “Maybe I will.”

“You should grovel,” Steve called to Bucky's retreating back.

“Yeah, yeah. Nat already informed me of the best tactic.” Bucky shut his bedroom door and dug his phone out of his pocket. It was amazing how quickly you could get used to having something in your life. He'd never had a cell phone until a few months ago and now it went everywhere with him. He'd spent a few short weeks with Darcy, and now he was sure he'd never be happy without her. Which made him feel anxious because if he fucked up his apology then he felt like he was doomed to live with her haunting his dreams until he died.

What if she had a guy? What if some perfect guy had come along and told her everything he should have when he'd had her for those few hours in this bed at the end of the summer. What if? The thought made him sick, made him feel like the clock was ticking. He shouldn't have waited so long. He should have called her weeks ago.

“Eight, zero, four, eight, seven, four, four, two, one, seven,” Bucky whispered under his breath as he sat down on the edge of his bed and stared at the black screen of his phone. He inhaled deeply and pulled up the keypad. He followed Nat’s advice and entered star and sixty-seven before dialing Darcy’s number. His thumb hovered over the green phone icon for several seconds before he swallowed the lump in his throat and connected.

He didn't breathe until the phone rang for the fourth time and went to her voicemail. He could hear her unmistakable voice tell him to leave a message, but his ears were roaring and his mind was racing so much that he didn't register it until the phone beeped. For a second, he panicked when he opened his mouth and nothing came out. He'd practiced this so many times in the shower and lying in bed at night and now it was all stuck in his chest.

Bucky cleared his throat and said, “It's me. I, uh, want to apologize for the last time we saw each other. I… I wish I could take it all back. I treated you bad. I should have… I mean, I…” He sighed and ran a hand roughly through his hair.

“Damn, doll. I had this all planned out. I rehearsed it, and now I'm fucking it all up. I'm sorry for… everything. I was wrong and you were right. All I can think about right now is you and… and you.”

Bucky swallowed past the lump in his throat. “I know I might have lost my chance with you. And… and if you've got a guy who makes you happy, then I understand if you just delete this message. But if you don’t… have someone and you feel like forgiving me… If you want to give me a chance to explain myself...”

He sighed again. “I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm messing this up. I should have written it down. I'm… I'll be at the house in New Mexico on November first. I'd like to make you dinner. Burgers and watermelon. On the patio. Like that night. Remember?” He laughed and it sounded nervous. “I'd like to see you if you want to see me. No pressure. Your choice. Six o’clock since it’s getting darker earlier.”

Bucky cleared his throat again. “And if you don't want to come see me, that's okay. If you don't want to, then I just want to end this on the right note and tell you that I love you. Okay? So, yeah. I, uh, yeah… Goodnight.”

He felt like a fucking idiot after he hung up, but he walked into the living room and looked at Steve, who was sitting on the couch with a baseball game on the television. “Well?” Steve asked.

“Left her a message.”

Steve furrowed his brows. “A message?”

“I need you to take me to that house in New Mexico next week.”

“What? Why?”

“I just do. Will you?”

“Of course. Whatever you want. Are you meeting her there?”

Bucky felt his stomach do a flip-flop as he thought about seeing her again. “I hope so,” he said.

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**[5:47pm, November 1st, New Mexico]**

He felt like an idiot again. He probably was an idiot. All this planning and he’d completely forgotten that she didn’t actually have a jet at her disposal like he did. He’d not thought about her life and where she was and what she was doing. He hadn’t thought about the availability of flights from wherever she might be to Albuquerque or any other airport in the vicinity. He hadn’t thought about the cost of traveling to see him. He’d just hopped in the quinjet with Steve and walked in the door of the house like things were that easy for everyone.

Stupid.

He almost picked up his phone and called Steve to ask him if he could ask Darcy if she needed help. It would be presumptuous, though. It would be like he knew she was coming, and he didn’t. He didn’t know that at all. In fact, he had spent the past week convincing himself that she definitely was _not_ coming because she’d moved on with her life and left him behind. That was his punishment for dragging his feet and making excuses and using her to hurt himself. His punishment for being a weak, manipulative jerk.

It was late in the season for watermelon, and it had taken him three hours to find a decent one the day before. Steve had dropped him off at the house four hours ago, and Bucky hadn’t felt much in the way of nerves until he had the burgers frying in the pan. She still wasn’t there. The driveway was empty and the road up to the house was clear of cars. He stood out on the porch and looked down the dusty drive, trying to will her to show up and put him out of his misery. He’d said six, but he’d expected her to be there earlier if she was going to actually show up.

The weather was nice here, still. The sun had just set and he could feel the temperature dropping from the mid-sixties to the fifties. He went back inside and flipped the burgers and snagged a piece of watermelon from the bowl he’d placed the cubes into. It didn’t taste as good as hers. The burgers wouldn’t taste as good either, especially since she wasn’t coming.

Bucky turned the heat off on the burgers and let them sit in the skillet while he sat at the island and looked around the house. It was the same as it had been when he’d left. Same southwest decor, same furniture, even the same books in the bookcase on the far wall of the living room. He could see the Philip Pullman trilogy she’d told him to read when he’d first arrived. He remembered Will and Lyra and how they loved each other, but couldn’t be together.

Bucky blinked away the wetness gathering in his eyes. It was twenty-five after six and there was no sign of her. The sky was already dark and he was trying to decide if he could stay the night in the house by himself or if he should call Steve for a pick up. He walked into his bedroom and looked at the neatly made bed that was so filled with memories.

He’d made a mistake. Coming here was a bad idea. All he could see was her in that bed. Or her outside on the patio trying to turn the hot tub on in a little bikini. Or her in the shower, dripping with water while he looked up at her from his knees. Or her lying on the couch with her head in his lap while they watched a stupid movie from the eighties. She was all over this house, and if he couldn’t have her, then there was no reason for him to be here. It hurt too much. He’d been living in the past too much and this was no different.

“Smells good.”

Holding onto the bedroom doorframe he turned around to find Darcy standing across the house in the entryway. She had a bag slung over her shoulder and a lime green fuzzy sweater on with a pair of faded jeans. “Darcy?”

“Sorry I’m late. I asked Steve to drop me off in Santa Fe so I could rent a car. There was a wreck on two eighty-five just south of Espanola or I would have been here an hour ago.” She gave him a weak smile and sat the bag on the floor.

He was so glad to see her, so relieved that he almost missed her mention of Steve. “Wait, Steve brought you here?” he asked.

“He called me the day after I got your message and offered me a ride.”

Bucky turned around and laughed under his breath. That punk. Unbelievable. What the fuck did he ever do to deserve people like her and Steve in his sorry life? “I didn’t even think about it until I got here. I was beating myself up over putting you out if you even wanted to come,” he said when he turned back toward her.

“Of course I wanted to come.”

“After everything I put you through, sweetheart? I didn’t think you’d want to see my face.”

She smiled at him, the corners of her eyes crinkling up. “I love your face, and I wouldn’t turn down a chance to see it.”

Bucky wanted to close the distance between them, but he didn’t want to presume, even if she was being so sweet to him.

While he was choking on his response, unable to force the right words out of his mouth, she added, “I especially wasn’t going to turn down a chance to hear you tell me I was right.”

“You were right,” he said. “You were always right.”

“Music to my ears,” she said, pushing her bag over to the side and shutting the door behind her. He watched her walk into the kitchen and look into the skillet at the cold burgers.

“Sorry,” he said. “I thought you weren’t coming.”

“They’re still good,” she said, undoing the tie on the bag of buns.

Bucky walked into the kitchen and stood behind her as she made two burgers. She covered hers in ketchup and made his just the way he liked with tomato, onion, lettuce, and mayo. He wanted to touch her, but he didn’t have her permission, and she seemed content to assemble the burgers. When she turned around, she had a plate in each hand.

“Are we still eating outside?”

“Yeah.”

She nodded at the bowl of watermelon. “How’d you find a good one. They’re out of season.”

“Took me three hours,” he admitted, picking up the bowl and following her into the living room. She waited by the patio door while he opened it and flipped on the small light by the door. It was too dark to eat without it.

“I’m glad you called,” she said, sitting down in her chair and watching him as he settled in across from her.

“I didn’t think you would be,” Bucky admitted. “The way things ended this summer, I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me at all.”

“I’m only here for the apology,” she said, picking into the burger.

He felt disappointment sweep through him. So, she wasn’t here to let him fix things; she just wanted to hear how wrong he’d been. Maybe that was why she hadn’t jumped into his arms. And here he’d been feeling so hopeful. She deserved the apology, though. “I’m sorry, Darcy. For everything, but especially for making you feel like I didn’t care, because I care a hell of a lot.” Bucky sat there and ate almost all of his burger, afraid to look up and see her expression.

“Are you done beating yourself up?” she asked, pinching a piece of watermelon between her index finger and thumb. His gaze followed her hand up to her mouth and watched her chew the cube of melon before licking the sweetness off her fingers.

“Yeah,” he said, “I’m done. I, uh, asked you here because I was hoping you’d… that you would, maybe…”

“That I would what?” she asked, tilting her head and watching him with her assessing, unwavering eyes.

“Forgive me.”

She smiled. “You’re forgiven,” Darcy said, popping another piece of watermelon in her mouth.

Bucky laughed under his breath, but there wasn’t much humor in it. It was more nerves than anything else. “And that you’d take me back, but I understand why you don’t want to.”

“Don’t be so hasty,” she said. “What are you willing to do to get me back? Will there be begging and pleading?”

“If it will work,” he said, feeling that little tiny light of hope ignite in his chest.

“It might. Why don’t you try it?”

Bucky gave her that nervous laugh again and leaned forward, crawling out of his chair and ending up on his hands and knees. Good groveling probably involved being on your knees. He was more than okay with that because it would get him closer to her.

She giggled with delight as he crawled around the little wrought iron table and raised up to kneel beside her chair. She turned her body toward him, her knees almost bumping into his stomach.

“Sweetheart, I am so sorry for being the biggest asshole in the world and making you feel like I didn’t want to be with you or that I didn’t love you, because I do want to be with you, and I do love you. I’m… I’m sorry I used you as a way to hurt myself. I’m sorry I made up bogus excuses of why we couldn’t be together, and I still don’t think I deserve you, but I’ve been told that I don’t get to decide that.”

“Who gets to decide that?” she asked, looking down at him.

“You.”

Darcy scrunched up her nose like she was thinking hard about his apology. “Hmmm, this is pretty good groveling.”

“I’m not done,” he said.

She raised her brows and waited for him to continue.

“I want this to work. So, I’ve got… I made plans. For us. I hope… I mean if you don’t want this, just say so, but I made plans.”

Darcy looked at him expectantly, confusion written on her beautiful face.

“God, I’m so nervous, doll,” he admitted on a sharp exhale.

She laughed softly. “You better not ask me to marry you right now.”

He chuckled and said, “No, not yet. But, I got you a present.”

“What’s the present? Did you wrap it? Because I would love to see how terrible you are at wrapping presents.”

He shook his head. “I don’t know how I would. I, uh, I bought us this place.”

Darcy tilted her head in question. “What?”

“This house. I bought it. With the money from the government. I got the keys in the mail a couple weeks ago.”

She rocked back in her chair. “Are you joking?”

Bucky chuckled again, his nerves evident in the tone of it. “No. I thought… Well, I thought if we had this place. If we could come here… Like, I mean…” He shook his head. “Fuck. I’m bad at this. Look, I’m afraid that you’ll leave me because I have to travel to fight Hydra or whatever other problem comes up. So, I thought if we had this place… If we have this place then I can promise you we’ll come here whenever you want to, whenever you think we need to. Just you and me together.”

“Like, if you’re gone too long and I’m mad at you, I can tell you that we’re coming here to cuddle and have really fantastic sex in the hot tub?”

It sounded so stupid when she said it like that. “Yeah,” he admitted.

“You seriously bought this house so we could have a sex getaway?” Her eyes were wide and so blue. She looked like she thought he was crazy, but she was still the prettiest girl he’d ever seen.

“Yeah, but don’t feel…” Her arms around his neck shut his mouth. She pulled him closer and scooted her ass onto the edge of the chair until his torso was between her knees. “Don’t feel obligated because I did something stupid,” he finished.

“You bought me a fucking house,” she said into his neck. “You are insane, and I love you.” She pulled back and took his face in her hands.

He felt like his heart was in his throat, fluttering there. “Does this mean you’ll take me back?”

“Take you back? I’m not sure we were ever really dating,” she said, smiling down at him.

“Felt like it,” he replied. “You wanna be my girl?”

“I have been since April,” she said simply.

He smiled, his lips pulling back from his teeth and and his cheeks hurting a bit from the strain. “Easy as that?”

“Easy as that. I seem to remember you telling me I'm easy.”

“You're that and more.”

“I missed you, Bucky. I'm so glad you came around. So, so glad.”

“Where you been spending your time?”

“We’re using an observatory in California. It’s my last project with Jane. She hired my replacement three weeks ago. I'm just training.”

Bucky slipped his arms around her waist and looked up at her. She was still in the chair and he was still on his knees. “How do you feel about Steve's apartment?”

“I feel like the walls are not thick enough for Captain America to not hear me banging his best friend, and that makes me feel like I'd be disappointing America with my filthy sexual deviancy.”

Bucky threw his head back and laughed. “There's another apartment on that floor. Mirror of his. It's mine. You lookin’ for a place to live, sweetheart?”

“So, I thought you said you couldn't give me anything.You do realize you just bought me a house—with a hot tub, may I add—and offered me a gorgeous apartment in the trendiest neighborhood in Brooklyn, right?”

“Trying to convince you to take a chance on me.”

“No convincing required. The apology was all I needed. I forgave your fine ass before I even walked in that door.”

She leaned down and brushed her lips over his mouth. Bucky sighed and reached up with both hands to cup her face between them, guiding her so he could deepen the kiss. When they pulled away from the lingering kiss, he said, “You really had me sweating there for a minute, doll. Thought you were gonna tell me to take a hike.”

“Never. I love you. Now can we go to bed and get naked? Because that kiss is giving me all kinds of really toe-curling flashbacks of your mad bedroom skills.”

Pushing himself up to his feet, he took her hand and pulled her out of the chair. “Okay,” he said. Whatever she wanted.

 

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading and commenting and being so encouraging and wonderful to me. I want to give you all hugs. The entire fic took me exactly a month to write, and believe me when I say that I lived in this fic during that month. It consumed ALL of my free time. It's so rewarding to hear that it has touched other people and made their day better.
> 
> If you'd like a list of all the songs that gave me motivation and inspiration to write this fic, you can find a list of them [IN THIS GRAPHIC](http://i.imgur.com/kDhBmfU.jpg). I believe you should be able to listen to all of them on YouTube or any streaming platform (Spotify, Google Music, etc).
> 
> I told myself I was moving on to another pairing after I finished this fic, but the pull of Bucky/Darcy is too strong, apparently. I do have an idea for another fic featuring these two. I haven't started it yet, but I don't think it will be a novel-length one like Better Than Okay. Probably a short novella multi-chapter or perhaps an extremely long one-shot. We'll see. If you have an idea you'd like me to consider, e-mail it to me at anogete527@yahoo.com. I don't bite. :-)
> 
> Also, if you boop me on Tumblr, then I will follow you. I'm [anogete](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/anogete) on there as well.
> 
> Until we meet again! Now, I'm going to have an emotional breakdown after pressing the post button. I'm happy to be able to post the end of this fic, but so sad to let go of it now that it's done.


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